Three minus one equals one

Two not one.
I was under the impression
that I was on a team.
I was mistaken.
There was no team,
just you.
looking out for you.

Two plus one is three.
She was invited in, past those borders,
into our bed, into our bond,
by you
onto the team
that has no shirts
and was no team.
I hadn’t understood then
that it was
just you
looking out for you.

There is only one,
no team,
never had been.
You made that clear
in the aftermath.
You felt I gave away your secrets,
shredded your trust,
by giving her the information that she needed to choose cleanly
to wear a jersey or not.
You raged at me.
I thought of her safety.
You marked me as a betrayer
no longer worthy of your trust,
forgetting
that I was being worthy of her trust,
that it wasn’t really
just you
looking out for you.

Three minus one is still only one.
You turn what you want to see toward the mirror
and hide the rest from yourself.
You are selective in what you choose to see,
blinded by false vanity
and the harsh nature of your own judgments.
You don’t know
spaces of union,
spaces of love,
or friendship,
spaces where there isn’t that core of loneliness underneath your life.
You ache for belonging
and reject the path along which it could be filled
where it is no longer only about you,
looking out for you.