|Finally Turning to Arrogance|
she should damn well care
whether or not i am an island-
i dont have the italian leather
sofa, and she's without the
healthy breasts. hers couldnt
begin to bounce. my name isnt
any dish to be served cold-
i am not revenge. im real.
turning jealousy into envy
and back again, forgetting all
the little differences and
making you turn away.
turn your head from me.
and walk away. because finally
i see that all those times
i begged and pleaded, saying
"it's me, not you." was nothing
but that same silliness they spout
about the world ending yesterday.
and i wouldnt be standing here
if anything was different yesterday,
but today i truly see that
it's you, not me. you're
too damn picky, and i'm about to
throw up the pies and see
how close-minded, from your
eyelids, up and over your head.
giving you a brain wedgie.
not like there's one in there anyway.
and now that hurts more than ever,
knowing i could be stupider than you.
drawing me close and drawing me near
just to draw me up close and
leave a map at the bottom of some pier.
i hate falling in love with you
with every single time you look by me
and say "hi" to me and pass by me-
i could never forget those lies.
and how'd you tease me with them
burn them into me and let us not forget
how you cleverly looked about
calling it art, fingering the keys
and locking the doors looking so shocked.
like you didnt know you were the one
that turned the key, such a plea to be innocent.
and i fell for it, but
i'm done falling in love with you.
i may not be an island,
but i'm setting up border patrol.
(comment on this poem)