Something Unreal
I remember your car as a sanctuary,
as exciting, like the last one. I remember
you opening up, talking to me about things
we’d never spoken of, grown up things,
things that you could give me that he couldn’t.
I was ready to move forward.
To let the past go.
I wanted to feel something unreal again.
You did too, you were chasing it, chasing it
from me. I know you were.
Is that why, when the magic ran out,
we couldn’t even be friends? Is that why
you took everything away? And lied?
You thought you could have your cake
and eat it too. You thought you could slip away
like you did with the last one. Or, no, the one before that.
She changed you, you said, you were changed.
You are changed.
He was like a ghost to me, but you
were just a snakeskin, an empty and used
familiar vessel. When the skin started to flake
I knew your deceit.
The real you had left some time ago,
when I wasn’t looking, you crawled,
slithered into a different life. One full of drinking
to fight your despair.
I ended up drinking to find my despair.
A glass of wine, a glass of tears.
A sprig of parsley dipped in salt water.
Hope of rebirth, and tears over loss, bloodshed,
being held captive in a prison. Just because I wanted
to be happy.
You taste like a hurricane, but I am the storm.
I am something unreal.
