I've been mad at you

since July 2018
when I asked about you and me
in bed

from every time
you put your hand
to the side
like a stop sign
in the air
to keep me from
talking
to keep me from
breathing

to keep me from
giving more life
to the room
than your silence can

oh boy, oh boy
I've been mad

I've been
fuck-you-angry

I've been mad
since I said I love you
and you said
"don't say that"

like it was a curse
or like my tongue
was the sound
of death
and if you were
to hear those words again
I might as well
stuff you in the coffin
and dig your grave
myself
and count to ten

ten

I've been mad
since you said
anything that you ever said
that you couldn't unsay
and were never sorry for saying
because well
you never really say
much at all
except for how
you don't know what to say
and how that is all
you can ever say
because well
what do words
mean to you
if anything
at all

I've been mad
since you asked
"can we just go to bed"

I've been mad
since you've been mad
at me
for being next to you
like I did this to you
like I happened to you
like you
can't wait
to get rid
of me

and you'll do it tonight
if it means one less
time
that I ask
if the alarm is set
right

I've been mad
since I started writing this
home alone
on my Friday night
minutes after nine
wearing a t-shirt of yours
clean and white

is this how it feels to be you
is this how it feels to be you
is this how it feels
to be medium
to be ice cold
empty
and
shivering
shivering
shivering
small
so small
like are you in there
were you in there
where did you go
while I was counting to ten