Thank you

Words hurt and purse through lips
that once kissed while hips tilted and hit
the right places – no room or space
between us but now youve seen the light
It stings and it sings to you:
A portly cherub needling and wheedling
right between the eyes;
I roll mine and sigh.
I’m glad its clear about your ex
and that boss you really like.
I applaud you for your honesty
but these thoughts dont catch us out
could you have been a bit more quick about it
Because these talks right after fucking
are a bit of a kick in my complex
because sex should just be fun
especially when you like,
or you thought you liked someone.
So now Im back to the beginning
while you pine for old, I pine for new.
You reopened old wounds with my hands
while you bit mine fresh open,
so thank you and fuck you.
Thank you for the lesson.
I learn more every time
I date a girl stuck in some old world
and I dig deeper into mine.
Thanks for giving me my sanctuary
thanks for giving me my space
thanks for making me sound like Morissette
O disillusionment, o consequence, o charity,
silence.

godivaalanis

No more

You say to me:

“I love you.

You are my one and only.

It will always be you.

You are the one.

Maybe we can date

in the summer

and see how things go?

We can take things slow.

And grow

at a healthy pace.

We can learn our lessons

and be the people

we want one another to be.

Rectify mistakes

and recognise where we went wrong.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you too.

It make me happy when you say it

back when I say it to you.”

Then you put a photo on Facebook

of you and the girl.

The one you travelled parts

of the world with.

The one you would give

your time to,

when you ran from me

you ran to.

The one you say:

“I love her too much

to have a relationship with her.

We spoke about it.

We even kissed

but I realised I love you,

it was you I really missed.

I think of you a lot

I miss your pretty face,

I havent had sex since you,

I miss that, miss us, our space.

That tiny little bubble,

it was so intense,

I miss being in love now

and so hence

I joined a dating site,

the one with lots of fish,

but its you I love Jo.

Its you, its us I miss.”

Then you put a picture up on Facebook

of you and the one that helps you spread the pain.

You write:

“I love my beautiful wife so much.”

and I know I won’t do this again.

The Hating of Dating

This devious game of numbers, numbers,

catches me cold, leaves me asunder.

We make mistakes and blurt out blunders;

silence broken by slurps and table legs that thunder.

 

Clock watching and phone checking too,

texting-texting mates? We’re through.

Nothing matters. Nothing is true.

A date with fate? The joke leaves me blue.

 

Rare chemistry and raw connections,

like a strawberry cream in a chocolate selection.

Searching for real love and affection

but looking in the wrong direction.

 

I had it once and now it’s gone.

This dating game carousels on and on.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fun.

I quit the game. I’m gone. I’m done.

hatingdatinggame_screenshot