Dear ________,
I’ve been thinking about us lately (us, as in: how it used to be) and it bothers me. I declared myself well and truly over you months and months and months ago. It pains me to have these feelings resurface. Life is too short to spend harbouring feelings for an ex-lover. I wonder: why you? and why now?
I’m not bitter. I never was. I think the situation was far too sad to be classified anything other than a tragedy. I can admit now that I was naive. You called me ‘Beautiful Girl’ and I believed it to mean so much more. Was it stupid of me to interpret loyalty in your kind words? Did I read between the lines when all you meant to convey was flattery?
I could blame it on geography. We were in a hole to begin with: did we ever stand a chance? And if I met you today, in this city, in this new life: would we still be in that hole together?
After the ‘us’ came the clarity. I suppose I owe my thanks to you for this newfound perspective. Love is science. Our actions are that of our bodies. We are nothing more than animals. There is no such thing as commitment or monogomy. We lust so that we can breed. We are attracted to certain men because our genetic makeups tell us to be. We only pair up because it makes living easier.
But – with all this cynicism and perceived wisdom comes the question that throws it all back into chaos – why you? and why now?
The Minx
Deserving the attention
it pains to deflect
all from respect
to whom I
used to be
That girl’s smile
is eating away
at her shiny face
She doubts herself
and doesn’t think
she can be me
Now
looking at a photo
looking back.
I’ll wear this shame with indifference. What’s done is done. (N)Ever-wiser and a lesson easily learnt but difficult to transcend in the real. How many more men will taint my troubled soul with their sticky desire? Am I not a product of my own making? I lie in an unmade bed, and I can smell you on my skin. Scalding water will not wash away the mark you left, but if makeup can transform the ugly then I can always hide.