She, her, it

Well, maybe I am just keeping her around for sex. I don't want to believe that personally because that makes me feel extremely guilty.

 

I know she isn't loyal to me and I know at a moments notice she could be in someone elses arms and probably Is.

 

My eyes wonder, nothing is in focus. She shouldn't feel special for being out of focus.

 

The fact that I think of her tells me I care more then I let on.

 

I'd drop everything to hold her. But, I refuse to get faded by anyone.

 

I don't want anyone or anything, nothing to lean on. She wants me to change our lives.

 

I don't wake up for her, not since she changed the dynamic. I use to love her. 

 

I only see bodies and faces and cute little quirks.

 

Who cares, I'll forget you eventually. 

 

I'll place your picture in a forgotten file and find you and not recognize you years from now.

 

I'll stumble over you.

 

But, when I was young darlin', you had meaning.

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Starward's picture

This is a very accurate

This is a very accurate reflection upon a very terrble process.  You have stated it poignantly, without sounding shrill or vindictive.  To me, the gravitational center of the whole poem is that one sentence, "I use to love her."  The poem moves toward that line and away from it, but the center is there, and is very strategically placed and presented.  This is a good poem about a very bad experience.


Enjoy effulgent days and exquisite nights.

Januarian

[*/+/^]

patriciajj's picture

A brilliantly composed

A brilliantly composed reflection on late-stage romance and the process of drifting apart. Very poignant, relatable and honest with believable feelings of ambivalence that shine bright in the light of your striking inner monologue. Enjoyed.