Drama Queen

“It’s not romantic. It’s just traumatic.” 

My mind replays the things we said sometimes… 

Reliving the same car collision 

again 

and 

again.

You used to be thing that pulled the sun across my sky.

Now I only remember us from behind police tape.

Google Docs says I could save one whole gigabyte if I let you go.

But the blood on these memories still hasn’t dried.

Maybe I can turn time from tire tracks.

Recreate the feeling from the scraps left behind.

Where did those people go?

How do we get them back?

Thought the tears in my eyes would show you how much I cared when I no longer had the words.

They just made you hate me more.

Shame on me, I guess.

I know better than to cry in front of people.

The way we yelled at each other that morning

still hurts. 

Even after the apology. 

Promised myself I’d never get that way again with you. 

You made no promises. 

Some poet (whose name I don’t remember right now)

once said 

“Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is not sexy…” 

Don’t know why I didn’t change my behavior 

then. 

Guess that makes me an unreliable narrator. 

Guess that makes this a typical heartbreak

not 

a traumatic situation. 

I should know what unrequited feels like

by now. 

How could I be so dramatic? 

Fall apart over the guy who said he doesn’t need me

just as easily as he said he loved me.

You hate repeating yourself,

yet here we are,

having the same conversation.

And oh, how romantic of you to tolerate me through your fury.

Your busy schedule. Your stressful life.

You probably think I should thank you for taking the time

but all we can do is scream.

Hydroplane into the same wall

again and again.

I still think about that day. 

Stand in that spot  

trying to force together the alternate realities where I said the right thing. 

I still search the latitude and longitude of where our love went

missing.
 

And we keep showing each other how much we care in all the wrong ways.