in return

you've never looked so odd.

perhaps the true word more closely resembles

pathetic

at this point.

for it's clear from

the worn-down fingernails

the sweat on your brow

the pink flush rising to your cheeks

the throw of your garments

the hesitation that lingers on bated breath

that you crawled your way here, clawing

through a booby-trapped heart

to get back to me somehow.

all i can do is stand in awe of you

and ask resolutely why you've come.

after all,

you did just recently take your time

destroying me from inside out.

you took me for a ride --

and i wanted to experience you,

so of course i obliged eagerly --

but you wouldn't let me off when nausea overcame

and so i vomited all on your dreams

and you blamed me for restricting them,

as if you ever would have let me

have that amount of control over your life.

you promptly lit me up,

which in turn set me on fire

and scalded me senseless

with your dazzled wit

and cheap shots.

and when the flame backfired

i took my only chance for escape

and you berated my healthy intentions,

naming it cowardice instead.

i should have known on the days

i woke

heavy from yesterday's makeup

and stale cigarette breath

that the violation i felt

was not just my mind playing tricks.

i only had virgin flesh to offer

but you made your kill anyway

and then acted like

i would never be

good enough

to abate your hunger.

it was then

that i threw you from my sheets

and snatched back the bits of my heart

you'd taken liberty to play with.

and it was like you didn't understand but

my tongue was not foreign

and my tone was not ambiguous.

life apart for so long --

to me, a remedy;

to you, what you deserved,

for you don't deserve me

or rather,

no one deserves the treatment

you admittedly bestowed:

you at the helm

and me being drowned at sea.

and what now?

pleas for redemption,

another try?

second chances are reserved

for those who hurt me

without knowing so.

you do not,

nor have you ever,

fallen into said category

and therefore

should be lucky to be graced

with even a fleeting glance

this time.

but such reminiscing

has so quickly exhausted my patience,

for you never gave me the time of day

and thus you merit the same

in return.

i walk away;

i don't know if you've turn at heel

and done the same

or if you're still rooted to the spot

watching me go.

but should either be true

it matters not much to me,

for at last i am breathing freely

and at last i'm not chained to your tomorrows

and at last i'm

back to me.

01.2010