Out With The Old

We could have been so beautiful together.

We were.

We were stunning in fact.

Approached by strangers who celebrated our love;

Or the facade thereof.

Lover, you looked straight into my soul and lied your affections into me so effortlessly;

As though you’ve practiced and mastered an ability to be cunning your entire life.

Without hesitation you told me you loved me while hiding behind a mask.

Your mendacity was exquisite.

What did you intend your outcome to be?

To one day leave me barren and broken;

Ravaged and desolate without explanation?

I see you now and all of your ugliness and I pity you.

I pity the hatred you hold for yourself that causes you to dwell in self loathing.

I pity the small, meek man that you are.

I pity the woman you share your home with who believes you’ll love her again one day;

Holding onto your lies like I did.

To be such a broken man that you would take pleasure in devastating a woman secure in her divinity.

I hope you loved me and I damn you into eternity;

Forever enduring remorse and regret.

I curse your dreams with vivid evocations of me and my body torturing you with seduction;

Palpable but not tangible;

Close and yet out of reach.

Damned to a paralysis of sleep that I watch you endure from my balcony above with pleasure.

I hope the thought of me burns into you.

I hope your heart shatters.

And I will know that your agony remains as it will bring me peace and power.

Lover, you fucked up.