“Reply”

Almost an hour and no reply.

This isn’t like you and I

Can’t stop from shaking; worse still,

I can’t stop from scratching.

The first thing I did when we said goodbye

(Without the normal “sweet dreams babe”,

I might add) I found myself reaching, no,

I felt myself needing the pain

To subdue the self hatred within me.

I fucked up this time, letting you in,

Now you see why I was so against it?

I knew this would happen,

Knew I’d wind up shivering on my bed

Refusing to sleep and repressing my tears

As if someone were watching, but really

There’s no one.

It’s just me, my French music and my

Red pen, your favourite, of course,

To make it hurt even more.

I can’t stand the fact that you care and,

At the same time, you won’t trust me

Even though I’m trying so hard to be honest.

All I wanted was a hand to hold, a smile,

Someone who’d take my mind off it.

Sure, yes, I’ve fucked up pretty badly,

You think I don’t know that? Well, do you know

That as you were crying, I was biting

Down on my lip, holding back my own sadness

Because I wasn’t going to hurt you anymore?

I just lay there, my head on my pillow,

Blinking rapidly with the handset to my ear,

Trying to keep my voice from breaking.

Alright, so maybe I was exaggerating, or maybe...

No, you weren’t right. I was fine. And you

Were so intent on believing I wasn’t, it...

It sort of...hurts. I know I’m not perfect

But I’m trying to change, just for you.

And every time I’m honest, you treat me like this,

And we have some fucked up argument,

Leaving me hating you, hating me, hating life

Then we come back for more, knowing

Exactly where this is going, and what’s

In store if we keep continuing like this.

Maybe I should just say it’s over. Save us

From getting in too deep and really getting hurt.

How is this worthwhile? I can’t think

Without you invading my thoughts, can’t talk

Without a reference to you, can’t walk in

The fucking rain without smiling simply

Because it reminds me of you. I’m too attached.

That’s the problem, I’m dependent on you.

I need some time to think, room to breathe,

The ability to move and be myself, not just

“Your girlfriend” or “Your baby.”

So I’m turning off my phone. You’re not going

To reply anyway. And, to be honest,

I really don’t want you to.