The Corner Booth

You hadn’t talked to your father in/Such a long time, he/Left the office early and came home/Late every night, your/Mother wore her mask so well, you couldn’t/See the pain, the guilt, you simply couldn’t tell that she was/Dying on the inside just/Like you never expected//

I let them try to change you into ex-/Actly what you weren’t and you/Stood up for yourself, how brave, what a/Man that makes you, you’re/So non-conformal, so unique, you’re so de-/Termined and yet so raw, can’t you see/That this e-motion is one/Hundred percent for real//

You talk of my ex-boyfriend so much, lets talk about/Your ex just for once, yes I/Know that she felt neglected, I can/Understand that, she/Felt as though you looked right through her, like she/Never existed in your eyes, you/Never treated her like some-/One you were supposed to love//

I used your love as an excuse to/Shut myself off, I didn’t/Want to share your love with the whole world so I/Kept it to myself, I/Am aware of how I can be, aware of/My complete disregard for your feelings, don’t/Lecture me on how to be/A better person//

You with your piercing stare, me with my/Long dark hair, what an odd pair we must’ve/Looked to that frail old couple, do you re-/Member that old roadside diner, you/Ordered us pancakes with syrup and some/Black coffee, we talked in such detail about your/Life, your parents, your mother, I/Know you miss her dearly//

And so the subject always came back to/Me and my treacherous past, you must’ve/Had so much fun flicking through those painful/Moments in my life, you/Used your position to make me feel weak in your/Cold stare, you pinned me down like a/Butterfly, wings flapping, eyes wide open/Begging for your mercy//

Perhaps just a few more seconds in that/Godforsaken room and I would’ve/Lost my mind completely, like some kind of/Lunatic, your tone of/Voice made the situation somewhat clearer to my/Inexperienced self, God do I re-/Member the look on your face once you/Realised what you’d done//

You’re the professional psychoanalyst, tell me/What the hell is wrong with me, am I/Too far gone to return to the/Life I lived before any of this, but then/How can I expect to be cured when I/Don’t even want to be, I just/Want some kind of re-lease from this/Feeling you force upon me//

Does it bother you that I first loved you because/You were the father that I needed so/Desperately, after all you were so very/Caring and nurturing, but then once/I had confessed my darkest secrets to you/Turned into the monster that I left be-/Hind, I don’t think you’ll ever know how/Sorry I am for that//

If you never wanted to see me again, you wouldn’t/Be sitting here right now, I know we/Said so many things we regret, or at-/Least I know I did, you/Loved to make me feel about as/Wanted as a broken toy, you were the/Five-year-old with the tendency to/Break all of your own rules//

Can you believe that it never even/Crossed my mind that you were with someone/Else when you were with me, how/Naïve is that? I mean/Why would a successful businessman/Such as yourself be interested/In someone like me, I couldn’t/Even use my knife and fork right//


It didn’t take long for you to change me into the/Exact opposite of what I/Was before I met you, my/Personality went through such an a-/Mazing transformation, you taught me how to/Be assertive and still possess the little/Girl charm that you said I would/ Never lose no matter what//

bitter? nah

i spent the weekend at adam's. he was so different somehow. well, i know exactly how. he was being so affectionate at times. not all the time. saying nice things and making gestures like moving hair out of my face holding onto me like i was sand slipping through his fingers. but if it's not natural then it's not real, is it?

is it?

i can't look at him. i can't let him see me. and i don't know why. every time i open my eyes my heart jumps when i see him staring right back. but he's my boyfriend. what's wrong with me?

we were in a club last night and we met up with some friends. his, obviously. when i'm sitting talking with them i feel as though i'm dragging the mood of everyone in the building down with me. i've got a smile plastered on my face for the entire duration of the conversation and i laugh in perfect timing over and over. i change my expression now and then; the smile remaining though. if it starts to hurt i go for a toilet break and the second i'm out of sight i'm some miserable looking girl walking up the stairs.

what the fuck could possibly be so wrong with her?

i practice some smiles and angles in the mirror while putting on some red lipstick. and i look into my own eyes and wonder how he can't see it when it's right in front of his face every time i look at him. then it's back down the stairs and on with the smile.

he's bored standing with me by the fire exit so i tell him he can go and play with his friends if he likes. while i sit at the back of the club on a chair by myself i try and find him on the dance floor, but i can't. even after forty five minutes i can't. i start wondering why he gets so bored with me all the time. he's the only person i really talk to now. he's basically my only friend now. and i bore him.

while i was looking for him on the dance floor i suddenly thought: he'd be better off single. and he would. i don't understand why i'm so miserable with him? it actually aches somewhere in my chest when i think about us. and i wish i knew why.

he dropped me off at the train station at ten past eight tonight. i had more than twenty minutes to wait for my train. he got my bag out of the boot and we said goodbye. i started crying before i was even inside. would it have been so difficult to have parked the car just ten metres away and have seen me onto my train? what was the rush to get me out of your house so fast? fucking top gear?

i hate sounding like this. i roll my eyes at people who go on like this. but it's little stupid blows and disappointments like this that bring me right down to the ground all the time. if he actually felt the way he acted (some of the time) this weekend then he wouldn't have said he wasn't going to fall asleep on me on friday - and then fall asleep on me on friday. he wouldn't have left me sitting alone on that stool watching the dance floor for forty five minutes on saturday. he wouldn't have left me downstairs watching tv in his living room on sunday afternoon while he sat at his computer browsing for car parts and opening his weekly newsletter. he wouldn't have fallen asleep for the last hour and a half we had together before he took me to the station, leaving me wide awake on the edge of his bed watching the never ending fucking story on tv. he wouldn't have put me on the 8:31 train home.

i don't believe the nice things you say to me. you don't make them sound real. like you don't even believe them yourself. what proportion of the feelings that prompted you to say you loved me the first time came from lust?

that night in Berlin happened because of what you told me about the party you went to. while you were on your way to that party i was on my way home from hospital. i got scared. i thought i was going to lose you soon.

do you hate me now?