
Adieu to The Lady of the House
I’m slow dancing in an old diner after lights out with the chairs up by the bar
and this whirling question keeps throbbing in my mind like neon lights at a rock concert.
If it were ever a choice,
Not to fall in love with someone you can never be with,
who would choose this kind of love?
I think a lot about this now that I’m in the process of trying to unravel this self-inflicted hurt.
Most times I wish we never met, but we did
And it was magic
Till it got chaotic and you changed
And it hurts
And I don’t know what to do to make it not hurt
Because sometimes I think maybe you fell out of touch,
And you realized how messy, putrid and broken I am.
But you also embellish these traits,
Who said all of who we are must be good and beautiful?
Aren’t we all a whirling dervish? Unboxed, different, unfiltered, scathed.
You’ve asked me to fall out of love, and I’m always in silence
because if I could, I would
But I don’t want to…
I want painful, difficult, devastating, elixir-worthy, hauntingly beautiful love.
But these words may probably be lost in hazy midnight cries
It’s sad to know that while my heart is breaking, you are sleeping or just faking… cigarettes after sex.
