Morning After

you’re standing at the door fiddling with your keys and I hate myself because I know what you want to hear and I don’t have those words inside me

or maybe I do but they stay lodged in my throat

or maybe more likely I only have them for someone else

a someone else that it’s not my place to say it to

a someone else who cares for me but doesn’t want to hear those words and would never ask not even with his eyes or jingling keys

a someone else who deserves better than me and so I really can’t fault him one bit

please I scream behind my downcast eyes just walk out

walk out like I want you to
without looking back
without another text
without my scent in your beard

your sigh says it all just like your shoulders and your reluctant boots

you know I won’t lie to you and yet here you are silently asking me to

I hate myself when I refuse to say what you want to hear

and I hate myself more when my bare feet touch the worn wood floor and pad nearly silently over to you

I hate myself as I wrap my arms around you like a peace offering or token of pity

and I damn myself when I notice you smelling my hair like you’re committing me to memory

I guess I should let you have at least that one small thing but even that insignificant souvenir feels like a betrayal of myself and my heart

you pull away and lift my chin and of course I look into your eyes and I can see you searching for the words there

I’m careful here in case my love inadvertently leaks around the rims of my irises

I know the moment you realize you don’t see them there the words I refuse to say

you touch my cheek so gently and I look away because I hate myself in this self-created wedge of time of you and I

dying for love but refusing it all in the same breath

please tell me you never want to see me again
tell me I’m not worth the hassle
tell me I’m a bitch
tell me anything except
‘when can I see you again?’

five minutes after you left I was scrubbing my skin in the shower trying to delete all traces and memories of you but when my phone pinged with your name my finger hovered a moment too long before swiping delete unread

tara caribou | ©️2019

25 Comments on “Morning After

  1. I pondered about this but for a moment and then concluded, Oh- how polarizing to truth it can seem, when what we might really need, is not what we prefer to love, after all, what we think we love requires us to do nothing because its already out of touch and thereby we really love remaining to be…just the same. Or so I think… 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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