what how

what? you fucked too hard or what?
he said. jokingly, of course.
fuck off! I said.
it’s weird. to talk like this,
with him. the way we are now.
hope you’re ok by now though
betrayal can be easy and sweet
when you’ve come to this stage
I’m not bleeding no more,
got my color back and all
that – if you’d like to call it a
betrayal at all

[recently I dragged a friend into
my grey area, its different shades
guess it made her dizzy
she didn’t get it, but who does?
“see, it’s not easy to love me,” I said.
“yet he passed it. completely.”
wasn’t easy. was crazy. completely.
“how? by setting you free?”
and that rose tattoo on his chest
sorry, Hun. gotta be stuck there
for the rest of your life!]

I am good, celebrating life at my own
British-radio-drama pace
I still love the same people dearly
love them again and again and again
I just ain’t in love with any of them
or anyone new in particular
flings and coffees (and a few smacks)
is all I can afford
this is still the time and place
I don’t belong

hey, about that ugly mattress, I said,
throw it away when I get home
he protested, saying that he and his
Belgian lady friend never did it there
oh, men! whatev, but

a whole new, nice bed is all I want
when I get home
all other things can wait
so what? and how?
this. this, my dears.

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