Rubbing My Hands

I’ve rubbed my hands, raw
trying to remove the remainder
of your love colors
and patterns,

I’ve cried myself to sleep
one too many times, for want
for want of having you again,
for want of possessing you
again,

What is possessing someone?
did I own your love, or just
was it something you lent out
to those whose feelings you touched
then reneged once again, taking
it back, making it yours, only?

No amount of brushing,
steel wool, turpentine,
long lonely nights, sunrise waking
mornings next to you, watching

Watching for a sign, a hint
a whisper in my ear, while I was sleeping
a letter on the mantelpiece, something
that was texted to me, then erased,
a message from a friend,

No longer a friend to me
a former acquaintance, who has tickled
your fancy, and caught your gaze,
someone who has wooed you, courted you
then called out, announcing that he

That he, was the one who possessed you now!

I might warn him
I might just chance to warn him, if he’d listen
if it occurred to him that possessing
and owning are two different things,
two faces, two lies laughing at each other,

Laughing like how you laughed at me
laughed when I said that I was leaving
before you left me,

Left me wanting to possess you,
own you,

Tell the world that we were those two faces,
the two faces that belonged together,

Just two lies, laughing at each other
calling it love,

Love…

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