If You looked for Me
I’m sorry, I was in over my head with my first entry. I guess I wanted to be grandiose — “look at how bruised my heart is, now weep like I have” … Of course, that’s not how I feel. It’s just how I want to make you feel.
Well, you won’t see anything, you won’t go looking, because you don’t care. I could die right now, and you wouldn’t even be aware.
Am I okay with that? I don’t know. I don’t want you to feel “guilty” (it’s a useless emotion), nor to “repent” (it’s a worthless action), or be anything but yourself.
I like good, honest things. I like direct things. You like beating around the bush. You like ignoring. This lady told you first: she knows you better than you know yourself. She’s a prophet.
Even if you forced fate more than a few times.
I dread the day you care again — I know this will happen, regardless of whether your owner (I’ll tell you again that you clearly don’t hold the leash here) is in the picture or not. You’ll reflect a little bit, think it won’t hurt to reach out. This lady knows what she’ll do then.
She told you, her arms are open to you. The time for that is limitless. But she’ll eventually start rotting like a corpse where you left her, you know?
Maybe they’ll be cold with no pulse under her once gentle, now clammy, hands. Maybe they would’ve fallen right off. Maybe all you can settle for is a pat on the back.
She doesn't want that for you — it’d be best if she could give you a proper hug and send you on your way.
But you won’t allow for that much, right?
And I know, it’s my fault. I’ve sunk my claws in deep. My nails are connected to your veins. I sunk them in and then ripped them out and wondered why you were bleeding.
But you’re the first to know I’m oblivious.
And weren’t you the one to say “I feel like the love I show you is enough?”
That was because I was no longer your favorite. You’ve always been my stomach. I couldn’t change it if I tried.
Why am I the one laying, rotting, when all I ever did was shine you for him?
I guess I made this bed of worms, and I’ll feed your brothers like we couldn’t feed each other.