Memories Of Me – Sold

At eight o’clock, in the black of night:
we agree to meet at the back,
where there is no light.
I will wait, expectations packed.

A few minutes late, I impatiently apply
more lip gloss, awaiting your arrival
hopefully hiding misguided
annoyance. Sitting in a car called: denial.

Scornfully, I know: it won’t work,
you were not interested, wistfully,
I daydream it will, but you: always smirked
skilfully dismissing my ideas as sinful.

I already knew – but suddenly – I realize:
you aren’t coming, there is no value
on the shallow attraction – you were long ago crystallised.
It was a game: not to be continued.

Alligator tears flooded my heart
my simple disposition: left me deaf and dumb.
You are the one my mother warned me about, bogart
of emotions, demanding all you couldn’t give, leaving me numb.

Emotionally bankrupt, you abandoned me in that car park:
a generic version of myself – you stole my memories
of me and sold them on, without feeling or remark,
menacingly devoting yourself to a life of debauchery.

– L.J. Lenehan –