I’m not a violent & dangerous man. Not really.
I used to think.
You ruined me. I used to blame you because I could not enjoy anyone else like I had enjoyed you. I blamed you for taking away something in me that would not let me be who I knew I was when I was with others other than you. I hated you even as I still loved you.
Then I went to hating myself, trying to puzzle out why I was who I was now. How I could get over you, go back to who I was, the innocence I lost, in knowing you. I tried. I cried. I did all I could. I could not. I hated you, I hated me for my weakness, I was more ashamed than I have ever been ashamed of anything I have done me with plenty to be ashamed of I was ashamed of something everyone said was not my fault. How could I have known you were my fate?
But when I could not have you anymore, when you had humiliated and betrayed me in all the ways you could, and you had many ways, I still was pining, pining for you. Though I told no one anymore, read Hemingway, drunk a lot more, took a hair cut, bought many new clothes, learned many new things, let many people love me, lied to myself I loved them. I was with them not with them, all I ever wanted was to be with you but I would not call you now. But I was not proud of that.
I thought I had been right when you called but I soon found out it was not me you wanted, it was what I had become that could make your life easier. You did not want me back, you wanted the shadow I projected as me to make your life easier. I pretended I knew that already, I was already used to people needing me and I did not let you know how many times I stood behind you in elevators not listening but sniffing the smell of hair when I was standing behind you. I thought I was strong, everyone thought I was strong, but after a while I knew I was not. I was who I was when you came back because I knew I could keep you around longer if I remained the act I had become. I still wanted you.
You took everything and you brought back nearly everything, when you came back, though I knew you had not come back for me. I was okay with that, I was not ashamed anymore that I could be content with just saying Hullo to you in the morning and in the evening and because you did not want more, I did not impose more on you, though I could. I let you see how many people wanted me. I let you observe the effect I had. But you were you, indifferent. You made me indifferent to them too; you still have that effect on me. All this love and I do not want any of it, I want yours.
When will you know that all my world is built in readiness for you to come back?
I used to think you had ruined me, spoiled me, taken away my poise, would never write poetry again, prose posing, would…Baby first love…until I saw that look in your eyes I had never seen in your face until that day when everyone had left and you insisted on staying behind, in that room like the room where it had all begun, you had not ruined me, constant motion, temporary flights imposed; from you, I had become the phoenix. Game tight!