Memories of our thirsty youth,
the lust and the virginity still
echo deep inside.
You act as if what we had in the past
actually meant something to you.
As if the heartbreak, and the emotional
distress you caused me to feel were
events long forgotten.
I was the fool in this thinking
you had changed, grown, evolved.
Your glasses perched on your nose,
sipping beers on the patio in late July,
I swore I wouldn’t let myself
get tangled in you again.
Your hand on my knee and
pleads to spend late summer afternoons
together suggested you felt something more.
You spooned me in the late hours of an August night,
made me think your intentions were
pure by kissing my forehead and
taking care to hold my hand on
drunken downtown Salt Lake City times.
I gave myself to you yet again.
Losing my virginity for a second time,
crying on the drive home because you
never actually cared,
choosing everyone over me,
You should have just fucked me.
It would have hurt less than this.