Meathead Monologue

when i see you walking with her

i try to suppress a bubble of laughter
as it crawls up to my mouth, wanting to break free.
the words that you have
whispered to me, they are clear and loud and i am certain i can recite them in my sleep.
this feeling has been eating at me for weeks,
my flesh is now strings of red and buttons of bone,
i call out to someone-anyone
who will hear that i
am
hurting.
and i don't
know
why.
but i can say that i am okay, and everyone
will look away and nod and believe me.
and i can say that this is not about you and they'll believe me.
but truth be told,
it is.
i am thankful they trust me,
but nobody knows me enough to look me in my dead eyes and ask me what's really wrong.
i am not sure i even know myself well enough to
know exactly why
it feels like i am the one being dragged through the thorn bush, being left behind
when it was me who walked away.
still, there is a giggle in my throat and it wants to get out,
i let it out for sure.
i laugh because when i look at you, i see
a picture frame of something i used to be.
i see your bare arms and i see mine around your waist, i see our hands touching and my fingers twirling your hair, i see our lips curling up, only to touch and explode.
but all there is now on your person,
another mind for you to hold, to love, to cherish.
and i sit here in silence, after i laugh
and i watch you walk by.
i laugh at you now.
i laugh at you to get over myself.
because i am pitiful.
because i didn't know you,
and you didn't know me.
my broken body of string and buttons will dissipate soon,
but it is okay because the healing will come quickly.
and i wish i could say the same for you-no hard feelings or anything, but it seems
i don't feel that way anymore.

r.k.