If I am honest, it began the night I first screamed.
She took one look at me and walked over
Waiting until she was dangerously close to scream back.
My fatigue is gone now.
I no longer spend nights haunted by the light –
I am haunted instead by her refusal to acknowledge
That I exist
That I am here beyond just someone to ask to switch on the fan
Or unscrew a light bulb.
We were lovers once.
I haven’t seen her breasts in months now.
But I have seen her smile more.
She does it while she sits cross-legged, chanting.
(Yes, she meditates now,
and the other day I saw her flush her pills away.)
I try to offer her morsels of my love now and then.
She always says no.
Because my very existence pains her,
Because I am a necessary appendage to a reduced rent.
And no more: not anymore.
She can never love me again.
No woman can love another woman
Who has hurt her as deeply as I have
By pretending to love her
When all I had in my heart for her was pity.
All I want now is to erase her forever.
APOBI is taking the “National” Poetry Month challenge! (Yes, in spite of law school and her long hiatus.) Follow her to see how far she succeeds in writing thirty poems in thirty days.