Saturday, April 28, 2012
"Angry" © July 8, 2011, by L.Nolan
By Lydia Nolan
© July 8, 2011
I had hoped at the beginning that it would be you.
I had longed at the beginning for you to come through, but—
You did not even come close to valuing the journey—
You had no depth to see the reason why it takes time.
Lie beneath the bridge. Sleep out in the cold. I am indifferent as you were—
I don’t care anymore.
Frequent your whores. Disappear for days, drink and womanize.
You are even less now than the one you called the drunken bore.
You chivalrous monk!
Your charm does tantalize in the beginning, my love
But no more! What you give now
Is death inside my soul—appalled that I could even now visualize
The warmth I used to feel, then shame for the way you treated me, oh...
It’s a wash—it’s a waste! Those memories, lost –your haste to leave me—
Your designs, your vicious plans on my gentle heart, are over now!
Emptied, I wallow in the waste of memories of
Your shallow rhetoric and expressions of love.
The character you played: tender, honest, intellectual –
What a waste of words,
What a line of lies!
How disgusting, this empty enterprise of yours—
That I should have believed the hope in me that grew each day I knew you.
I should have listened to the others.
They had warned that you were heartless,
Divisive, with tools to wound a trusting spirit,
There was Hollow in you, oh...
Let’s finish this.
I realize now, it wasn’t meant to be a happy ending—
You are finished.
I am finished.
I am not surprised.
Let there be no more apologies, sick soul be still.
Do not keep on calling me!
How I hate to hear your frequent sadness—crocodile tears,
When you have not any money,
Or the women have moved on
And the sorrow, oh! I hate you...
’Cause I loved you....
I hate you for having made me believe that you,
You could be the one.
I hate you ‘cause I loved you—
Sometimes... I still do.
Like a fresh finished rain, It is done.
And I never want to see you here again.