I hope you read this
by Alison Driscoll
You hurt me –
Past and presently.
Blocked now but your thumbs up on my selfie
Still glares at me like a middle finger.
And the ones in my hallway –
After adorning me with flowers –
You aren’t even smiling.
And Vans™ to my debs?! Seriously?
You couldn’t try smiling?
For a long time you were my poetry
When I was fooled by your arrogance I mistook for charm.
And for a while you were my writer’s block,
Because you tainted it.
You said I wasn’t, nor would I be, a poet.
Who were you to say what I couldn’t be?
I saw you for the first time this week.
The first since you told him enjoy your sloppy seconds.
And I froze. And I fussed at my fringe.
And then I said fuck it, and fuck you too.
Now that I can digest our toxic concoction
Maybe you’ll give rise to an anthology
Just to prove to you I can.
You are my poetry now again,
Though the truth doesn’t rhyme so well.