To The Girl I Cheated On Nine Years Ago by Robert Wilson

I’m sorry
but you started it.
Our friends told me
how you gave yourself to someone else,
as if you were just some
commodity to be fucked,
then tossed yourself into the ocean
so I would forgive you.
I didn’t want to believe
you were capable of cheating
or dying
so I turned off my
awareness of life
and loved you
with everything I had back then.
I went to a party one night
and it was as if the poison
brought me back from the dead.
I knew you at that moment,
how you placed me
on some menu written in blood
like the lowly option I was
to you.
So I ripped out an eye,
pulled out a tooth,
and banged some girl
under florescent skies.
She moaned and pulsated
atop a dirty beer pong table
while I grunted and smiled,
trying not to scream your name
through the tears I wouldn’t let go.
After we came, we dressed,
went back to the party
and never spoke of it again.
I broke up with you
a few days later
without a second thought
and haven’t spoken to you since.
You always told me
you wanted to be a member
of the Secret Service.
I bet you’re draped
in a burned American flag,
dancing through a fog of bullets
as I let a cloud of an American Spirit
escape my wilting lungs
We’re both going to die young
and we’ll be buried
under the diseased hearts of those we hurt
with the knowledge that we are both
terrible,
terrible people.

Robert Wilson
Robert Wilson is a writer from Morgantown, WV. He is known for his dark and surreal confessional poetry. You can purchase good first poetry collection, Houses I’ve Died In, on Amazon.

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