Counting to Thirteen

Fri, 02/12/2016 - 20:59 -- T_C

Not loving you?
Why, that's too easy
Like painting in black and blue
Like counting to thirteen
Starting with one, two

 

One stupid smile on that stupid face
With one too soft embrace
One you that I can replace

 

Two big, annoyingly soft hands
Two idiotic dates at cafes with unprofessional bands
Two grand gifts with designer brands

 

Three bittersweet kisses on Valentine's Day
Three jokes far too cliche
Three red roses at the picnic by the bay

 

Four times you stuttered on the stupid proposal
Four happy yeses when I should have been woeful
Four brushes of the hand that were too hopeful

 

Five stupidly wonderful fingers on my cheek
Five kisses where we were too meek
Five too quiet minutes before we could speak

 

Six days it took to move you in
Six elated phone calls all in the bin
Six months you slept on the couch 'til you-know-when

 

Seven promises to wait
Seven weeks before the big date
Seven times we could have that I regret and hate

 

Eight ignorant boys having too much fun to think
Eight sips before I noticed drugs in my drink
Eight tears before my love was on the brink

 

Nine dirty appointments to the clinic
Nine rude doctors who played the cynic
Nine disgusting thoughts where I was the critic

 

Ten disapproving relatives to impress
The fear of ten bruises hidden under my dress
Ten awful moments before I could confess

 

Eleven long, hard silences
Eleven heard cries of repentance
Eleven failures before acceptance

 

Twelve boxes all packed away
Twelve times I could have told but didn't ask you to stay
Twelve conversations that could have saved our day

 

Thirteen ugly lies that took shape
Thirteen truths I couldn't escape
Thirteen reasons I should have said it was rape

 

So there you have it.
Not loving you is easy
Like keeping going when I want to quit
Like writing a poem
Like staying calm when I want to have a fit
Like counting to thirteen

 

But counting to thirteen
Adds up to one
One lover lost
For a night of good fun
For a group of boys
And something I can't outrun
Or ever forget
But what's done is done

 

So, no, I don't love you
It's easy
I swear it's true
Like counting to thirteen
Until my lips turn blue

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