Bitterness

even the thought of you touching my hair and looking at me with love-eyes
sends a bullet to welter in my guts and a sick flutter to seize my throat.
I don't even know what I want to do with you.
one thing I definitely don't want to do
is see you with anyone else, ever.

yesterday I heard you talking upstairs, to our mutual friend,
"I can't believe I slept with _______!"
(another mutual friend. up they seem to keep popping.)
I couldn't keep my jaw from dropping
or the muscles in my hands from tightening.
six days ago I woke up to find your bed full with more than one person,
a man with long, blond hair and a little man's goatee.
what the fuck? how could you?

this is crazy. this is ridiculous.
you're not even mine. I don't even want you.
I don't even want to think about you.
I don't even want to think.
I keep trying to find places to escape,
farther and farther from where I know you are,

but I can't find a good one.
this feeling is just bitterness that you have built love
with every stranger you meet that becomes a friend
and I haven't.
I'm sure of it.

this feeling is just bitterness.
that's why my heart hurts and why,
on a dime, I don't even want to look at you.
because you are kind and happy and I am not.
that's why I can't think of your little hips in my hands
and I put in earbuds to ignore sounds coming from upstairs.

I feel sick to think of you with anyone else, ever.