Matters of You

Hearing from you makes my heart ache,
regardless of the fact that I'm done
being your bitch and verbal punching bag.

I've been gone an entire moon cycle
and then some - still you have to goad
as though you still have some right to me.

We're finished and that's the way I want it,
just like I told your mother, who thought
Europe might make us fall in love again.

I couldn't be with someone for whom
it's like second nature to make me cry -
and when the tears dried, you got angry.

You somehow thought I didn't love you
while I was trying so hard not to hurt
the one person I ever cared so much about.

(And just in case you're still that oblivious
I am talking about you - why do you think
I stayed somewhere that made me miserable?)

My mind knows the truth and part of my heart
understands that I very nearly hate you,
but the rest cringes when I read your words.

Inside I'm still so fucked up, my heart knows not
whether to ignore it when you dig claws in,
cry rivers of angry tears or love despite myself.

My mind is much more intelligent than that,
so luckily I will never let my heart do its own
bidding when it comes to matters of you.