Mood: Content
Drinking: Snapple
70 times
And to think that my dreams
live on
in your head. I told you
too many secrets.
Caught up in the flush
of brand new acquaintance
the feeling of finding
a matched set of souls.
I trusted you before you asked
and that was my own mistake.
I should have checked
your resume first.
But I swallowed too many
little things, watching you
play to the lights. You
dressed up your insults
to sound just like jokes
and I’m good at laughing
at those. But the punch
lines smacked me straight
in the face. I kept wallet-sized
snapshots to showcase the bruises.
You sounded like Shakespeare
scripting your lines, always
keeping a tear on the tip of your
tongue. But I knew all your words
before your mouth moved.
And whether your sorries
came from your soul
I soon ran short on forgiveness.
I let you crawl under my skin
and gnaw at my nerves,
while I memorized how each
tangled ganglia burned.
Stayed far too long
remembering that
counting my scars and
shoving you back.
So tired now. Of you
and of all of yours,
and I know my bitterness
doesn’t become me.
But my seventy times
ran out long ago
when the date
on our friendship
expired.
-Lo, circa 1998
LaDonnaWitmer 