The story gets better

CW: Binge drinking.

You tell me you heard I wrote a poem about you

Yes, I did write about my love

and your lies

and the pain they put me through

You’ve never been one for words

that did not put you on a pedestal

and my words become swords

the moment I mark them in pencil.

I admit, calling you for closure was a foolish thing to do

but there are things I need to say,

and I should not have to swallow them

the way I swallow shots poured by the coworker that kisses you

the way I swallow the tears caught in my throat in the bathroom

the way I go to that bar anyway, just to be close to you

only for you to pour me a water.

I do not water down my feelings for anyone

had you read the poem,

you would have known just how hard I fell for you

If a picture says a thousand words

then I loved you one thousand pictures worth

and now you’re asking me to delete them.

You say I always have to come out of scenarios with a story

that I’m a “cool girl”, I really am,

but that I need to stop making adventures out of normalcy

It’s true that a highlight reel can never show my genuity

that’s why I write “WE WERE REAL” every time I turn you into poetry.

If you want real,

I will pour you the cold, hard,

no mixed in, watered-down truth

Sometimes I forget that

constructive dialogue takes the listening of two

and sometimes I drink to forget the love I once knew

I’m sure you would have done anything to numb the pain

had you been in my shoes

All I ever wanted was an apology that didn’t sound like an excuse

but accountability has never been your strong suit.

I know you heard the poem about you

And if you did not like what you heard

then I promise I won’t write about you anymore

you’re a chapter of the past now

I refuse to make this chapter less than grandiose and exciting

Because this story gets better

the more I keep writing.

Note: This is an old poem; I’ve since established a much healthier relationship with alcohol, and am in my sober curious era.