“A woman has got to love a bad man
once or twice in her life, to be thankful for a good one.”
—Marjorie Kinnan
Every single day was a constant battle
between me, myself, and I,
The reason being that I was loving—
loving someone who was toxic,
A manipulative, dirty liar—
me being a naïve, clueless person,
you suffering.
Most days, we would text
over my old tablet, for days.
I stare straight through you
wondering how you’re doing and if you’re doing okay today,
the awkward presence,
the sun passing behind a cloud.
There is no need to cry your tears,
or tell me lies,
or to tell me that it’s fine,
and I can hide behind the ignorance,
rotating in the drum of horrible people.
But some days I noticed
that they started acting strange
and being pretty obsessive,
and maybe a little irritable,
them name calling a random stranger
that they didn’t even know anything about—
Then I had about enough,
I came to you,
with something to tell you,
and you will look up, as always
your eyes wide, me saying I’m through.