Saturday, 20 January 2007


mix media on canvas
40” x 30”


Just Another Check Marks

It's funny to think that I used to believe those simple words.
the ones that take so much courage to say, so much assurance.
But when you said them, I believed them every time...
for I simply couldn't see, why you wouldn't love me???

So you spoke of such love, numerous times.
showing me in many ways, the truth of that simple sentence.
And I believed it. ...foolheartedly, I believed you.
For how could you hold this feeling you said you did...
when you could so easily turn away from me and cast me from your life.

A remnant of a relationship.

So I have been labeled, and anything with any connection to me.
Just say what you're thinking, then I know that you must be:
all of those regrets of being with me,
of experiences with me...
of ever meeting me,
talking to me,
holding me,
touching me...
'loving' me.

You're a coward...
and oh how I know your hate of cowards.
Funny how you can't see what you've become.

And so what if I've found someone new?
Dare you think me a slut? just because someone happened to make me happy,
because chance fell into my lap, and before I knew it I was not saddened by your absence...

Go, then.
Call me a slut, a whore, a wench, say all your horrid labels that you think I shall wear.
Hand me my scarlet letter, that you somehow think I should place upon my breast.

It all hurts.
Your loss hurts.
Your absence hurts.
Your regrets, your hate, your abandonment.
It all hurts.

You don't know what love is...
and maybe, you never did...

I'm happy now,
... without you.
All you are is another check mark to the list
of people with regrets of being with me.

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