I Drive Home Numb

and stay that way

until I’m setting my alarm

and I realize tomorrow’s

the fifteenth.

Then I’m madder than I’ve ever been.

Was he only pretending

to love me?

Was breakfast

in bed a lie?

Was sex with me

just a sick experiment?

And besides mad, I feel

used

helpless

weak.

I’m not used to feeling like a loser

and even when I’ve lost a match

I’ve always had comfort

knowing chances were

I’d prevail next time.

But how do you win

against something

like this?

If he knocks

on my window

tomorrow morning

I’m pushing him

out of the tree.