A searing, stretching, sadness
is pushing my insides, out:
It’s like I have no centre.
I gave that role to you
these past few months.
You were my centre.
And now you’re gone.

It’s no accident you haven’t called
or messaged me
or emailed
or popped in whenever you were in town.
That you only text
whenever you want sex.
But won’t be my friend.

It’s not the first time
but I’ll bet it’ll be the last.
No longer will I believe that
it’s enough just to want something,
someone.
No more will I get drunk on ‘what ifs’
or ‘drown in a sea of what might have beens’
- that was your expression,
when I first met you
and you wanted to convince me.
Ironic then that it was never to be.
That you didn’t believe in it either.

When I look back, I’ve done this often.
Fixated on a man and gone all out
to get him.
I can’t stand losing the game.
But I lose everytime because
there was nothing to win.
No trophy.
No ra-ra girls.
No certificate of attendance.
Just me standing here, feeling lost
and alone.

Deep inside me
in a place I can’t get at,
I really believed it was better to have you
even if you are not what I thought,
than not to have you at all.
Despite logic, reason and mathematics.
Despite my intuition
that deserted me weeks ago.

I want to unlock that place
where irrational thoughts
and their conjoined twins,
irrational emotions, breed.
I want to understand why
a woman like me:
with a Degree in Politics,
a wealth of life experience
and a heartful of love,
finds it necessary to
love in such a futile way.

But what’s stopping me
at the moment
from understanding myself,
is this ridiculous compulsion
to want to understand you.