there are things we don't want to remember
i don't want to see him;
his heart broke mine.
it's not that the wound will open afresh
and spill bloody sadness across the floor--
it's not that i still love him
and the angels will weep at our meeting--
it's not that he wants me back
and i will go because i've not met anyone better
(and besides,
he' s not yet totally bald)--
no
it's that
i'm ashamed
that once my heart did break
that the sadness was so bloody
and the angels did weep
you see:
i'm horrified that there ever was a time when
i would have taken him back
if i had been given the chance
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