I would never believe that the first thing
I thought about you
Was in fact
The only thing I now think about you.
You used to roll your index finger,
Definitely at me,
“I’m here for you”.
You pulled me in
With a tight rope -
Told me to stay there
Then left me out to dry like a sock on a clothesline.
It’s not that you don’t wear me anymore;
You’re just used to reusing me.
And I decided
I wouldn’t deal with that anymore.
But whenever I think of you,
I still have a bitter fondness,
A cold attachment,
To the love I thought you gave me,
But that was just a mask for something else.