The Depth of Dante's Inferno

So used to being unloved, I felt really stupid when I let you hurt me.  

  I wish you never said things like "I love you".   It seemed hardly fair, considering their is another woman in your bed.  

I was so angry for letting the alcohol consume us like demons.  I didn't want to get that close to you, without being more careful.  Some other force whirl-winded over us that night, and I slipped into regret every passing moment that I felt abandoned by you.  I didn't need you to lie to me...nor even love me. I needed a friend to look after me, and be honest.  

  Your version of honesty was doublespeak. Saying things you never followed through on, and I am aware I should have seen the signs.  

  you were unlike anyone I had ever met.  A true internal wreck, and in the oddest way, like a perfect mirror of myself.  I didn't need you to love me, I needed you to communicate.  

I gave up a lot for you.  For that one stupid night, and all the emotions and torment that followed.  Having sex with you opened a Pandora's box, I had closed, so so afraid to get hurt again- 

  To have my heart touched before it was torched.  

And sure enough, 

  You searched for love elsewhere.  

Never followed up on us, 

  Or our "friendship".  

Loving you wasn't consuming- it was risky.  

  It wasn't my everything, rather an injection of toxins my body needed to do without.  

I wish you would have told me.  

  But if you did, it just crossed my signals more. 

Nothing was tangible, only masked.  

 And yea-

You threw me away.  

  That's what hurt.  

What seems to have scarred me.  

So go ahead, and go to church with her.  

  It's not like I meant anything, 

Ever, 

  To you.  

For a good man, 

You really hurt my heart.  

  And if it wasn't for that one night...

I might have kept clear of all of this.  

 But we failed each other,

 Didn't we?  

Or you failed me, 

  While I failed myself.  

Before all that, 

  I had kept you at the proper distance- one that felt safe for me.  

After, I was wrecked, and you slipped away, but not after " I love you's" and "there's no going back"....not after you said all the wrong things to confuse an already emotional trial.  

  

  No goodbye.  

No honesty.  Nothing of significance bared.  

You just moved on, 

  And stopped communicating 

With someone you called a friend and said you were grateful for.  

  Of course I felt used, 

While you never even gave me a hand to hold 

  While I was drowning because of what we'd done.  

Your hand was distant and vague...

  And now I see, 

your words empty.  

Even if in the moment, 

  

  You meant everything you said.  

Being hurt by the others, that was expected.  

  

But somehow what transpired between us, 

  Hurt and wounded me all over again.  

That's because I WAS your friend.  I needed more, I expected more..

And the truth that seems most prevailing is that you were never mine.  

So yea...go to church with her.  

  Enjoy the depth of her eyes, and everything she gives you.  

Congratulations.  

I want to be happy for you.  

But you really did leave me hanging, 

Without any concern for me now.  

Real friends, 

Dont do that.  

What hurt is finding out, 

That we are not friends.  

Because that left me merely, 

 Feeling used.  

What hurt was thinking we were better than that; and that you were.  

What's hurts is being so right 

And so wrong about you.  

I knew, 

That I should have known.  

I don't know if you remember, but you told me that you really just wanted to focus on love, on giving love, and on connecting with others in this capacity.  

So...what happened to mine? 

If that was even remotely true, why have you not reached out to me once?

What happened to everything you said? 

  I guess it's just easier to love a wildflower, 

Rather than a Lotus, masked in a graveyard of swamp. 

She is your wildflower.  

I was always just a throw-away between us.  

You said I meant something to you.  

But there is noting tangible left to signify any depth of truth to that.  

Just silence.  

Just loss.

Just bare.  

While you have been fulfilled, 

People who have used me up, 

Just constantly sucking out my air.  

I needed you to be different.  Instead you reminded me, that I was not worth loving.  

Different Eyes

Picked apart at every seem,
  the past is on a timeline on repeat.

I dodge it, assimilating the new encounters that churn my curiosity....

  A failing satisfaction
and a constant shaking loose of everything I believe I know.

  For instance, I would assume that Love is not abundant in this world, that we all might need more..
but the outsiders in this world seem to be just as stimulated by distractions;

some of them illusions, some of them, mere bouts of attention grabs,
  one after the other, and then to the next.

Short attention spans, keep them half fulfilled,
while I have been gasping and barely undrowned.

   I loved, and now I keep my mouth mostly shut,
As I seem to never carry their attention long enough.

  Rather than communicating,
They had cut me loose rather quickly,

As uncherished as any stray dog,
  Saved and cut loose again.

  The past tells me a different story.
A story that reminds me,
  That I can not compete, so ancient and modern,

Against the shallow lure and glam and simplicity of the offered up.

To each of them,
  I was always "too" something.

Too sad
  Too sick
Too much to blame
  Too deep
Too loving
  Too much.

Too passionate about uncomfortable subjects.
  Too messy
Too behind
  Too ahead

So no...
  I do not know how to be loved.

I love well.  Love hard.
  And that is like having a different kind of blood course through my veins.

In his air however,
  A California graveyard...
I find nothing I need but some deep reservation in my own soul
  Tapped into upon threat only of souly death.

I chose not to die.
  But I awalk a life here that deprives me of the breath I was born to need.

  God took my only Angel, as will be taken others.
  So I pray now,

On my knees

For peace.  Unsure if happiness is beyond me?
  Beyond any wounded and tossed away.

If feeling unloved and untouched can be the kiss of death for an infant,
  How do we survive, those like me?

How does any starved force, keep living?

  I wonder these things when man chooses himself.
This is why I was afraid to love him.

And why I'm afraid to even have an opinion on you.
  Denying my undercoat,
I keep my head down, while you glimpse me.

  I don't want to do this again.
I already know I like you,

  But it always seems like it's their choice, and never mine.

You seem aware of your worth.  Confident.
  Even too much like a man.

How can I compete being so used to being tossed away.
 Loving you will hurt me..

And I think we both know it.