I Did The Same

By Shaire Blythe

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

 

I Did The Same

 

I did the same.

I understand how wrong it was at the time now,

because I am ultimately clutching my chest, fighting to see my tomorrow.

 

There once had been this sunset beyond the rustling trees and behind the tower.

I would watch as the cotton-pink skies faded to amber and Wake Up flowed from

my earphones.

The crisp air had been pleasant then.

And then you happened.

 

How can I honestly feel a hammer striking at my beating heart?

 

It is not you that has made me in to a withering rose.

What has happened is that I have known this position.

I have been that one girl for the moment--for the week--

and left behind to pick up the broken fragments.

I have been that pot boiling on the front stove and then

set back to cool off for whenever I was to be picked up again.

 

I did Isaac the same.

 

I racked up two, five guys like their lives were some shopping spree.

I divided my quality time with each, yet secretly whispering they were never the only

underneath thin cotton sheets.

 

My mistake.

 

Your mistake too.

 

They never really knew me.

 

I never really knew you too.