Soul Searching

Stupid.
For waiting for someone to pop
Out of the closet telling me
These last few months
Was so much effort to hurt me
But it has yet to happen

Talking.
To the lover who has been a lover, forever.
Silently whispering to me saying he is married, now.
This conversation will end with a long pause
And a lie, I never believe, but refuse to speak of
Which is his pretense excuse for sleep

Annoyed.
Figuring I can’t wait around anymore.
The wicked whelping lurched in wetness leaves me in Zion.
Helplessly, hoping for him to
Come back, and yell something like, “fuck our past”.

Wishing.
Stupid adjective used to define what I really want.
Pre-occupied with what I can’t reach,
I was losing a part of me.

Soul loving.
I rather not lose another part of me.
Loving another who wants to have his cake and eat it too.
Minus the realm of confusion and I miss you too’s.
I will smile surely since I am done soul searching.