You remember when you were freaking out
about the big job interview tomorrow
and I wouldn’t come over
because I’d already been there
the day before and needed to be with my boy,
and how hurt you were?

I understand that now.

And that time when the judge ruled against you on custody
and you were desperate for some sort of relief,
even if it meant in bed with me,
and I said no because I thought
that wasn’t a good solution
since we’d only been dating a week in the first place,
and how pissed you were?

I understand that now.

And when that one time came where I didn’t
return your phone calls for two days
even though we always got together on Sundays and Mondays,
and you ached and were so sad?

I understand that now.

And back when I was so distant and vacant
while you wanted to dance around the living room
and think about the future
and kiss and make love and just be
together,
and you were confused until it dawned
what this was all really about?

I understand that now.

There’s not too much
that’s pretty
when it comes to the truth
of disconnected love,

and while I always - just like each of you -
did the best I could at the time,
there just wasn’t that much
in me
to share,

or feel
when what I needed
to do
wasn’t very graceful
or nice
or decent
or loving.

And now
that the shoe’s
on the other foot
there’s not just
this pain now

but the unfelt stuff
from them other times
coming back like ghosts
to haunt
my stupid stupid heart.