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drowntown

don't write me out (a bitter revision)

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original: http://cicadamag.com/index.php?/forums/topic/9321-dont-write-me-out/&tab=comments#comment-9297
anyways this is a poem about a homophobic, transphobic ex and im bitter as fuck kjsdkgjdfs i almost ran into the guy this poem was about in the college cafeteria a month or so ago and almost had a panic attack lmao god i Strongly Dislike him wow Eat The Rich Cishet Men

 

i.

listening to a new song on repeat,

somehow i never get tired
of the tune. i thought of you.
how free i was

(fired up and shot down, independent of your
excuses and horribly casual 'im not gay and neither are you' or
tiring 'youre a fucking girl' and 'why be proud of your identity?
it's just an identity.'

i didn't try should have known not never to reach out to you again.)

ii.

i talk a lot

(either i always did i will not apologize for it
or and you are starting to
respond less. thank god.)

and i apologize
for my excitement.
know that you
don't deserve me

this time, there's no
answer.

iii.

local policy throws up
firewalls
between sound sites, sound bytes
and half-rate speakers.

i never was good at coding,

and your language
is one i don't know how to read.
if i want to learn how to read.
(silence has never been a thing
i could deal with well.

it radiates like static
from your lips.
but i don't need you,
and you don't deserve pretty sugarcoated
excuses for refusal to change.

iv.

(am i falling out of touch?

are you? you'd better fucking bet.)
i forget you were my best friend.
it's no fault of mine that anything has changed

but you can barely look at me.

spun glass threads hold us
together.

they're cracking.
(thank god.)

v.

i wrote you out of a screenplay,
suddenly wistful triumphant as hell
(because for a good couple days

i had forgotten you existed.

written words
made me remember)

and i looked out the window,
heart twisting. jumping with possibility.

vi.

we're in a state of 'never'

and it was n't always meant to go this way.
(we don't exchange words
the way we used to,
you know? maybe it's a result of finally
standing up for myself.
)

vii.

maybe it's because of what today is.
(i forgot.) i still don't remember, thank god.

do you regret anything, my dear?

i don't.
either respect my identity, or get out.

viii.

i reached out,

fired up,

(it had been a number
of weeks
since i had seen your face)

shot down.

graced with
one-word courtesy,

i didn't reach out again.
why miss someone who's only done you wrong?

vix.

(i can deal
with losing cutting you off.

again.

i can not deal
with the cold

and dismissiveness
you throw at me,
because we both know
who's the better man.
)

at each fork and crossroads,
i should never have offered meant every single

'we can still be friends'

that i said. 

 

vx.

i heard, a year later,
that you'd switched programs

and dropped out of fucking college
for no apparent reason
(or at least reasons i didn't care
enough to pursue.)

is this divine retribution?

karma, maybe.

  • Like 5

holla holla get dolla

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