Goodbye In So Many Words.

"I see a sadness in your eye.
something that stretches beyond daily torments,
your eyes have a sadness
more striking than love or loss."

"…I…I just cannot…"
She stumbled over the syllables

"Yes, I know.
I don't think I can either."

She slowly collected herself,
"You're so blasé. You never
seem to care about
what I experience or what
I have to say."
as if picking up pieces
of a broken glass,
she reached for each syllable slowly,
deliberately weaving each word,
"You never let me get
the last word
in on a conversation or argument,
you always
have some sort of self-centered point to make."
as she kept speaking she began to act
more
and
more
like shards of broken glass--minute, direct, painful, and itinerant.
"You're such a fool and an
addict
you won't ever find a cure for your brand of
stupidity.
give it up, your little facade of kindness and endearment,
today you were so sweet
but like all days by the afternoon you grew bitter.
love is too far away from your capacity.
you're remote, spatial,
and constantly in exile.
you never called when you should have called.
you should have called."

"I don't make a habit of it."

"And you're always doing that kind of
self-disclosing bullshit,
like you're not wired to make any sort of
behavioral change
that could possibly make other people happy.
your ambition is all over the place
every week
you have some sort of a new fucking idea
why don't you just pick a path and run on it?
I'm just so sick of
all your shit
You don't ever care about what I
have to say
and when I do say something to you
you're always dumbfounded
like you don't have any sort of advice
but
I can see past your eyes and see
you making judgements
and formulating
Lies
Lies
Lies.
I'm so sick of all your lies
you're just so impulsive.
you would not be a good father to my children"

"Okay. I think I've had enough."

"You're right,
we should go to another bar.
this one is making me sad."

He paid for the meal
and the tab,
grabbed her coat from the rack
slid it over her shoulders,
opened the door
and she led the way.

~the battlefield of the beautiful.


Любов,

Іванченко