Truth be told—she suits you
I'm 39 now, and truth is the only thing I allow to escape from my lips.
So here it is—
No one would ever be enough for you in the end.
I saw it then, and now you are living proof of this consequential truth playing out.
Here we are, post-2022.
Wedding bliss—
I guess it’s all but faded by now.
Perhaps that’s why I’m hearing from you?
Never too far out of reach,
I see your tan fingers pulling at other women from the Rolodex labeled Variety.
She was stunning in Greece, up on a hillside overlooking the sea—
They showed me the pictures.
I smiled politely.
I thought, she’s nothing like me…
Blonde, yes, but enhanced in a way I could never be.
What, 10–15 years your junior?
I wondered what the story was there,
But it doesn’t matter anyway—it never does.
We seek and attract all the brokenness in us.
And perhaps that’s why we could never be.
Always trying to align, give it a try.
Days of almost and what could be—our napalm and illicit drug.
Me, never letting you get away with anything.
You, never saying quite the right thing.
No, really—she suits you perfectly.
Nothing like the wild dreams of you and me.
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