Trying to love you
has become a decades-old lie
where
faking forced affections feels
something like hate
the answer-less question
of
“why is this so hard?”
breeds surface excuses like
what do you expect when you throw an ex-Goth, Neo-hippie in the same enclosed space with
a camo-wearing, Solo cup song-loving, ex-cheerleader
vying for the attentions of the same man
who could love us both separately
but not equally
one of us always having to lose
our unspoken lie
that we never noticed
or pretended that daily tug of war between us didn’t exist
all the while the walls closing in on me with every
late arrival
every unpaid loan
due to your lack of interest
every time you left a mess for me to clean up
abandoned room, clothes still on hangers, no forwarding address
your could never look past your oceans of entitlement
your U-O-M-E’s
to see the faces or hearts of the loved ones you dragged under
too busy running away from yourself
or maybe from me
because the truth is I could never trust you
and I wish I could tell you that
without being cruel
but no matter our polar likeness
how can I confront you with our fraud
to speak what-deep down- we both know
that if I could have loved you
I would have welcomed that blindness
because forgiveness is a foreign country I’d like to visit
and healing as unfathomable
as continuing to live this lie.