A Person Who Cares, Stays

I know the truth now. I've been asking for days for it. And now, here it is. It's been here the whole time. Since August. I felt the shift in the hall way when you asked me how he was doing. I knew in that moment that something had changed. 

How did I miss that? How come I never asked the Tarot reader? What a huge oversight on my part. How can I have been so naive? I know I can't blame you for the way you behaved. And yet, I can. I do. In fact, as I write this, I can't stand you.

I think you're weak. It hurts, you know? Do you know? Do you understand? It dawned on me how you might think I could never put you first. You and your needs. And I'm left with yet again, a painful truth that my own needs actually don't matter and are not even considered.

You pulled away...not that you ever really drew near. But when you realized again the reality of my situation, you decided right then and there, that your pride was the god you were going to worship.

A person who cares, stays. God forbid, you should get all twisted up by my feelings. I mean, what a concept, right? It's got to be clean and painless. And I'm just a hot mess, is that it? You can't or won't get caught up in my gravity. 

That's why you don't ask about me. Or him. Because you don't care. It's only ever been about you and what you could get. And I'm here hurting. You remind me of my brother. You're cold. You don't know how to empathize. You hold back. I mean, fuck, it's painfully obvious, you don't give a shit 

My husband was right. You belong with the brutes. I know that irritated you when he lumped your lot all together. But, it's the truth. You're all the same.

There's no chance I'll ever put you first. I come first. I'll always come first. I'm the lady you'll never touch. Wow, are you telling me that you wanted to have some fun on your terms and not pay a price? Your money doesn't count. Not when a lady's got her own.

You're so cocky. But, you're not happy. I can count on that. There's no way you can be. Not when you're sniffing around despite having a home with goodies inside. It's okay, old friend. I understand how things can get stale. 

For better or for worse? Where did I hear that?