She’s mad at me again, Poetry by Jeff Moore

Genre: Relationship, Drama, Romance, Love

She’s mad at me again
by Jeff Moore

She’s mad at me again. It’s kind of become our thing. I’ll let her sleep on it, chill out, and then call her in a day or two. She’ll act upset at first, then I’ll say something inappropriate, then something funny, and then she’ll end up on my couch. I should be happy that I’ll get my way again. Truth is…I’m bored and this is coming to an end.

‘You can’t always get what you want’ sings a choir in one of my favourite songs. God I love The Stones, especially on a night like tonight. Candles lit, wine poured, half the bottle is already done. I could not be happier to be alone. Everything has a beginning, middle, and an end. If I was honest, I would say ours was already dead. Maybe I was more in love with the moment than I was with the person. It was serendipitous in nature and now it’s a pain in my side. We have nothing in common, she doesn’t understand me at all, and sometimes I wonder if she is more interested in converting me into something else instead of loving me for what I am.

I should really be blaming the north-bound subway. We were both heading south, waiting for our connection when the wind from the passing train allowed the sweet smell of her perfume to enter my world. God I love a beautiful smelling woman – to borrow a phrase from a show I wish had ended a season earlier than it had. Her smell awoke my dark passenger.

It all starts with a smell that turns into a thirst that ends with my introduction. Fuck it, I don’t care, I’m all in.

I was not her type; I knew that from the start. She prefers jocks, men with bodies straight from the cover of Men’s Health to the likeness of me. She never saw me coming, but now she can’t believe I’m gone.

I know I am going to see her one day. I know it will be in a passing moment where I can’t believe I did this. I will wonder if she still thinks about us. I will wonder if she gave him every piece of her, or if she kept a small part for me. I will wonder if he knows how to work her body the way I do, or if she leaves hickeys on the inside of his left bicep. I will wonder if she misses my bluntness, because I know I will miss every part of her.

But I need to be honest; I need to set her free, because in every moment I keep her here, she is not meeting him.

So I need to do the only thing I can – I need to become distant. I have to put up those walls because I want something for you that you are not willing to give to yourself. I want you to be happy, I want you to be free, I want you to no longer have to worry about me and my destructive ways. Though she may shed tears and beg to know why, all I can give her is ‘this is goodbye’.

By WILDsound Festival

Submitters reactions to their feedback on their stories. New testimonials coming each month! Watch this month's winning readings. At least 15 performances a month: www.wildsoundfestival.com Submit your script, story, poem, or film to the festival today: www.wildsound.ca

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