Beginning to End

In the beginning we 

Worked with our hands.

We brought blueprints to the table 

And talked about

Shelves and

Frames 

And books

And music.

Then we slowly had 

Less 

And less 

In common.

It started with my abhorring The National.

And you didn't know I hate The Smiths.

So that is a conversation for another 

Day that we will never 

Share.

And you hated things you didn't know about

Like Teen Wolf.

And how I dyed my hair.

Because you like 

Natural girls

That play guitar 

And sing

Sad 

Things.

But not me.

You never really liked

Me.

I was "Too,"

Too nerdy,

Too insecure,

In too much makeup,

Wearing colors that were too strange 

Together.

I was too talkative,

My writing was too dark.

And you were too good

For me.

I wonder if you'll ever read this.

You won't. You won't.

Silence is all you are now-

The static fray 

On the other end of 

My telephone.

You never liked talking to me much 

Anyway. 

I don't know if that's a lie or not.

I remember when we COULD talk;

When we could carry on a 

Conversation for hours.

But you wanted to.

That's the difference.

I wish 

I could pinpoint the moment you stopped

Wanting me.

But I don't even think you know.

Because you'd come back and touch 

Me anyway,

When it was convenient for you.

Until you stopped.

I read this book once that said something like:

"He's a man made up of excuses and when you stop making excuses for him, he will disappear entirely."

You didn't talk to me for two days

After I stopped

Treating the wound.

It started and ended with The National.

On the way home from your house,

I coincidentally heard the familiar lines

Of the only song

I can stomach by them:

"I...need my girl."

But you didn't.

You don't.

Maybe I was never yours

To begin with.