sometimes rain, sometimes rainbow - poetry collection

i broke up with you so you could be the victim

you hurt me more than you're willing to admit.
it's easier to paint me a villain–though I could never be the villain.
the woman who loves you after you hurt her, make her feel small, kiss other women,
she cannot be the villain.

the woman who's virginity you took,
and promptly left.
left her lying, naked and vulnerable
How could she be a villain?

the woman, who though
you ignore for days on end,
waits on your beck and call excited to hear your voice–pretend w her's

the woman who broke up with you before,
calling you
Sociopathic
Unfeeling
Evil
because you wouldn't love her the way she deserved
came crawling back on her knees for you.
Is she really a villain if you took her back with open arms?

the man who admits that he used my looseness when drunk to his advantage
and taunted his knowledge of being able to hold me down,
the man who came on to me, in a drunken stupor
sprawled himself over me,
grabbing my face trying to force me to kiss him,
but he is the victim, because I no longer love him

men are peculiar creatures,
strong, ever-strong
and powerful,
but victims when it twists the narrative in their favor.

this is not to say he was always cruel to me,
we had our beautiful moments,
in music,
in poetry,
in the everglades

but intention is not action
and words aren't always true.
The devil wears many masks,
but Love is his favorite