refusing to let go of it
you are like a broken
rhythm, distant strained hesitant.
pervasive but forgettable. like
the scratch of a 48 stopping
right before it gets good, before
it gets interesting. you hide
behind your blonde hair and loud
voice, hoping no one will bother
to look deeper, into
the fear lighting the back
of your eyes, a bit of truth
in the midst of fabrication, hurting
no one but yourself.
you seem to think if you ignore
will go away, a dream of someone
else's life. i'm tired
of your lies, your anger.
look deeper. the anger
is for someone else, for you
and him, for then. move on.
don't let them take even more.