Author Information
Out with the Loathing, In with the Benevolence
The pain of being left behind has lingered inside you for years, years, years.
So you thought the patrons berating me weren’t bad enough, nuff, nuff.
I had open wounds all over my body.
And you dumped a bucket of salt on them.
You knew perfectly well how hurt I was before that.
Yet you tie a leash on my neck and commanded me to listen
Like the dog I was when I barked back at you.
No matter what my decision was, I was going to lose to you.
My attachment to you was the perfect gun for you to fire
Because it was loaded with the tablets that nearly did you in.
On that fateful day, you survived and I thought that true love was out of my reach.
You would have had the last laugh, but several days later, the joke’s on you.
I’m someone else’s now so tough luck and good riddance to bad rubbish.
You say you’re free of me,
Yet your memories of me have locked you up
and thrown away the key.
I know that because you have loads of trouble letting go of the past.
You can vent ‘til the cows come home that I never
made time for you, you, you!
Everything has to be about me, me, me!
But that was only the surface you scratched.
That’s the furthest you ever went.
It says more about you than me.
Hell, a beefcake could clear his schedule for you better than I can.
But his chivalry might be aggressive mimicry.
If he breaks your heart, it ain’t my problem.
Now that I’m out of your reach, you can’t touch me.
I’m mingling with the losers like I’m dancing in a nightclub in Italy.
It was a wakeup call to screw your shade
Because one of them loves everything about me.
It’s not looking the other way. It’s enjoying the person I was born to be.
Every day I don’t look you up online
Nor read your old messages, my memories of you hurt less and less.
While I can visualize you a decade from now
Still being stroppy about the delusion that I never cared for you.
Who knows? You could call me a cunt and still claim part of you loves me.
And you’re sorry it had to be this way.
But… fuck no! Let’s be real. You’re not sorry. No aspect of you loves me.
You played the sarcasm card on me. So how about a taste of your own medicine for a change?
Good luck becoming a psychologist with the attitude of a wack job.
Good luck getting that degree while you throw a fit on every single assignment you get.
Good luck handing that very same garbage you threw at me to a couple getting a divorce.
I can’t wait to see a patient badmouth you on Reddit and turn you into a court jester.
Maybe I did learn a lesson from you after all;
Knowing when it is time to let go and never come back.
