Them

(written in "Ex's" comp.)



have three ex's.
have said "I love you" to three woman.
Those are the ones that matter

Never learned to tell that lie to the rest
and for that they are perfect


The first
was and is the wife
that the universe creates duality for;
so that lost innocence can find itself again
in another

we are not together
in that way
anymore,
but we can't be truly seperated
anymore
than I can
from myself.

The second ex
is a mixed bag.
I still can't get a clear read
on her.
At first, we were good friends
my homie
she was my boss.
Learned that little danger exceeds
that of having a perfect buddy
who is fucking hot.
In restrospect
I think that being "in love"
hazed a bit in translation.

The third ex
is awfully fresh.
The animosity of soured relationship
still lingers heavy
clouding her worth




The third is not ignored,
completely.

The second works her way
into the backrooms of my memory
when biology requires
manual release.
She still gets a phone-call
when I want to dance.

The first
earned my pedestal placement
and hurt the most.
Not because either of us
fell short
but because
the world itself
broke

she

still gets my poetry