Dear George
I guess this will be the final straw
Drawn as messy as your doodles
All over your pads and mine
Filled with blood
You left me alone to deal with
Our mistake a second time
Was never on our side
Neither was your temperament
Or the way I need assurance
What you call neediness
Is me reaching out
Just asking for love
From my one person
What you call needing space
Is actually you being selfish
Because your reaction
Your lack of involvement
In any way possible
Dusting your hands
Of any involvement or feeling
Are there still beautiful things?
In the space that is supposed
To hold your soul?
The first time a miscarriage
This time a miscarriage abortion
Tell me again
How I never talk
About how I feel, to be real
When you don’t want to talk
To me at all
Well here they are
All the times I wanted to talk
But the wall you keep up
Makes it impossible
To feel safe enough
To open right up
And bare my heart and soul
To someone who wouldn’t even offer
To pay to get rid of
Your fetus.
Cant pay up with support
Won’t pay up physically
Wash your hands
Shake them out
And let them air dry out
Side is where you never go
Out of your comfort zone
All the distasteful jokes I made
To hide my hurt and pain
About having to get rid of something
I once wanted so badly with you before.
I now realize I’d been a fool
A fool still in love
With someone who
Could never love me the way I deserve
Poetry Witch 