You underestimated my strength and self-esteem. You thought that I could settle and give. Your brown eyes would coast, lapping up the waves of my love, wind through your hair, stuffing your pockets with the outpouring of care.
You fool.
How did you think this story would end? Did you believe yourself to be the exception- a borderless man able to go and come at his pleasure, crossing and entering as he deems worthy of his oh so precious self.
I have attempted to piece together what happened and what went wrong, and yet, I come back to a deep knowledge that I did everything I could to love you while you held me on a string, a phantom pool of non-existent sharks below, your sad face manipulating me to hold on for dear life.
When was I done with your utter lack thereof? The moment that you no longer could be truthful with me. I allowed myself to be your secret friend, unnamed, cared for only behind closed doors. I let you lie to the world “*unknown*”, lie to your friends “friend from high school”, but the moment you lied to me, the string snapped, and I fell back into myself and woke the fuck up.
You fool.
Did it come from a place of jealousy? Did you know that I have been loved and encircled in care that you had to make me believe that I was weak and needy, dependent on the shards of fake friendship you would bestow upon me, your “humble servant”? You saw my beautiful community and expansive heart, and decided instead of grasping the fragment I offered you, you snapped it like a guitar string, the hatred and ambivalence piercing my heart.
You fool.
I wrote our story, rewrote our story, and even tried to make myself a bad guy to soothe your ego. “It didn’t count”- you said to me as it meant everything to me. You cannot say that I was meaningless as history will show your tongue grazing my teeth and your body engulfing me as you inhale my scent. The gods will take you back to the moments on rooftops, on concrete, on the highways, and everywhere in between. The bonfire burning your cigarette as our lips were magnetic. And yet, when all was said and done, charcoal eyes over candles and jeweled charms between drunk fingers shine in the corners of doubt you may attempt to cast. You can reframe it, try to erase it, and ignore it, but it happened. I happened to you.
You fool.
The storm and fury that is my head and heart happened to you, and I know that you have never been the same.
