Dear John...

I thought you were sweet!

Delicious like hard boiled candy…

The other “s” you were not.

I had hoped you would grow into it.

But now I realize you’re but an island in “us”

When days go by and all I hear is silence,

When I tell you its not done,

You blank out and then say “okay”

Its as though ive been talking to a chalk board.

You don’t get me!

Sensitive is not you

How can you say you love someone,

And not understand anything about them?

What page am I on that you don’t get?

I realize now that,

We are in different books.

Books parallel never to be understood.

Your idea of love isn’t the same as mine.

You think being physical is love

I think that being there when needed is love.

Our Bank account is empty babe.

I gave, and gave. You took, and took.

Until there was nothing left

Now you’re ready to give,

It’s nothing but a sole account.

They say women enjoy being treated like trash.

It is not the truth.

It’s the God in us who gives us the strength,

To thrive,

To forgive,

To go back to taking the shit men do us.

Im no feminist, but now I understand,

Sweetness is the reason I love you,

Sensitivity, or  hope of sensitivity is the reason I stick with you.

Sensitivity is what I want from you,

I will get none from you,

Now that is the reason I despise you.