Expiration Date

I feel less mad

toward the guys who tell me they just want me for sex

than I feel toward you.

At least they tell me right away

what I should expect

instead of writing to me for four months and then telling me they can’t see me.

Maybe I am the “crazy girl”

who is filled with anger and sadness all at the same time,

and so I can’t think of anything better to do

than to write down everything I feel

until the number of words on these pages match the number of words you wrote to me.

The worst part is that my anger and sadness are the rational kind,

the kind that understand you and your fears

and why you backed out

and how good of a person you actually are.

But it still doesn’t make it ok

that you made me wait four months

to tell me that we were expired.

Or maybe I am completely fine,

and so I’m just writing down these words because I want to feel something.

I want to feel furious when I’m only disappointed.

I want to feel devastated when I only feel jaded.

I want you to know that I’m OK, even though I don’t want to be.

 

 

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