By deevaa
Date: 29 June 1999

confusion

I don't know if this is a poem. 
I don't know what I am trying to say.
Last night I was packing, 
sitting amongst boxes and newspaper.
If felt like I was packing my heart into those boxes, 
tucking it in between my paintbrushes and the linen.
(I didn't wrap it with newspaper, its too late to worry about it being broken.)
On Saturday I went for coffee with a man. 
He tried to kiss me and I pushed him away. 
It felt so wrong I went home and put my wedding band back on.
I put it on the right hand, 
(like you have been wearing yours since I took mine off.) 
So last night I was sitting there amongst the boxes.
Trying to decide what was yours,
and what was mine.
and angrily throwing your stuff into the corner.
Hurling it against the wall. 
Not cause I was mad at you, 
not cause I wanted to break anything, 
but cause I was mad at me. 
Why do I still love you like this?
Why do I still have your spell weaving magic over me?
Why do I still care?
WHY? WHY? WHY?

And then you turned up.
Handsome as the day I meet you.
You had come to take away your stereo.
(With speakers so big you could actually dance on them)
I asked you if you wanted a coffee.
You said yes. (Then we laughed cause I didn't have any.)
I asked you if you had slept with anyone else since me.
and you said no. I told you about my coffee date,
and about my wedding band, 
and about how I felt like I was packing our marriage into these boxes.
and you nodded and pulled me into your arms.
and I let you.
and I let you into my bed.
my bed? its yours... yours after the move.
like the stereo, like the stuff hurled into the corner.
your going to Japan - and I will miss you
and I hope you'll come back.
and maybe then it'll be different.
and we can be just one or the other. 
friend or lover 
no, I'm not mad at you.
I'm mad at me.
why? cause I still love you
why? cause you have a spell over me.
why? cause I still care.
WHY? WHY? WHY?