Groundhog Day
A Meaningless movie.
A movie I hated.
A movie about a man, sort of and nothing like me.
Something that reminded me of what I did last night.
It had to be done. Or should I have been a dreamer?
Waited a year for it to get better?
Waited a day at least; a day where you’d say to me once again;
“Why couldn’t you have done better?”
And me, taking it like a man. But I didn’t want to be a man. I didn’t sign up to be a man.
Of course, I am one. And rooted down again by flesh, by expectations
Not contractual; convenience dictated them
Convenience and love, yes
Is it love to be bullied?
Is it love to be resented?
Is it love to explain away my pleas?
Even if the coarse words and curses
Were the product of nothing but hurt
A long, aching, slimy kind of hurt
A hurt no one deserves
A hurt you should be saved from
A hurt a father or mother could help with
Should have helped with
A hurt that could excuse almost every evil
But could it excuse this? Another fit, another greedy and eager grab and what I could never possibly be expected to give?
I was accused of being too young:
And yet it seems I took care of a child
A hurting child
A child who was left behind
A child who needed someone
Again—should I have stayed one more day?
One more week; one more year?
Healing takes a lifetime, but surely you’d be on your feet in three?
But you’ll never take me, because no matter the hours driven,
The bills paid,
The food bought,
The tears dried,
The worries shushed,
The time spent,
The secrets hidden,
All I can hear is the indignant cry:
“I HATE when you do this, just say GOODNIGHT and goodbye and get it over with!”
And I know that it will never be enough
A boyfriend will never fit a sister, mother, or God-sized hole in your heart.
expand how I may; I can’t get big enough.
I’m praying you don’t turn your nose; and forget about me, unlike the exes whose names were drilled into me
Like silent prayers and pleas of justice unrendered
I hope, at the very least,
You’d give me the grace of seeing the rock
And the hard place I was up against
Or maybe you’ll never
And I have to be evil
To fit your story
Of always being hurt
True enough; but by me?
Something something
I don’t know
May I stay?
There’s nothing left for me to say.