If my love for you were a car in the streets of downtown, I’d embody the figure of a New York City cab. I’d be the never ending memory that drives through your heart and stains your existence with that of my own because there are no stop signs in your mind.
The steady rumbling of wheels on gravel would play a sober bass note to the symphony that is otherwise known as rush hour chaos. Every honk that zooms past you would be the melodramatic exaggeration of the raging beat of my heart. Every angry driver would channel my distress as they yell, “Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” just like I’ve always said.
“Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” Because you walked all over my feelings. You stained my existence with that of your own. Slowly running out on top of me. You don’t notice the harm that you have caused me; my dependence on your validation, my need for your love, my delusion of being loved…
And then there are all the women you flaunted, all of my trust that you took for granted. You made me weaker inside, and I just wanted to be strong.
I love you, and you never loved me, but I always sat next to you because I wanted to be noticed desperately. I’d contradict my beliefs and straighten my hair. I’d do it just to see if you would even care. I’d wake up early and change my face, all so that you would feel inclined to hold me in your embrace.
I want every honk to be my yells of “fuck you!” And you’ll go crazy inside and lose your mind. I’ll be everywhere you turn, the regret of leading me on will eat you alive. It will taunt you with my anger, taunt you with my heartbreak, my sadness, remorse.
At least I wish it would…
Because the reality is that you’re the yellow cab and I see you everywhere.
Instead every angry driver yells at me. “Watch where you’re going, you idiot!" because I’m too distracted to notice anything but you.
I can’t fathom all the energy I’ve spent thinking about you. You claim to have seen my strength, beauty and independence, but you stripped it from me with one look. One gaze from you was like a sun ray reaching to kiss me warmly in my cheek on a Sunday morning. It was a soft gaze, welcoming. An indicator of all being good.
You entrusted me with your secrets, your problems. You asked me for my help, and like a docile sheep in a flock I conformed to your every demand of me. I would do just about anything to see you satisfied, to have you pleased with me. I’d do it all because I wanted you to have a reason to come back to me, to see me as valuable as I saw you.
My delusions raced ahead of me and I treasured our talks. What seemed intimate to me, was just a form of manipulation from you. And just when I believed you felt the same about me, you told me about girl one, girl two, girl three.
And so still I say “fuck you!” …
But deep inside, I still want you to fuck me too.
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