if you loved me
If you loved me
you would tell me
and then you’d tell me
you love me again
and again
I would argue with you
and ask why
and for what reason
and still you would say
I love you because
you’re lovable
and I just do
and we would talk about me
and more about me
until you convinced me
it was true
or until one of us died
if I was lovable
you would drop everything
literally
whatever is in your hands
rush to the door
or the phone
or into the room when I’d call
and you’d smile as I sent you away
because I wanted nothing
except your willingness to please
we could play this game again
and again
and again
until you ran back and forth
so many times that your legs
were worn down to stumps
at that point
to prove that you love me
you would scoot
to and fro
to and fro
on the floor
swinging your torso
with your strong arms
naturally I would leave you
because without legs
you’d be useless to me
but at least I’d be quite
sure of your love
and remember it fondly
even though I did not love you
but that doesn’t matter
that isn’t really
what’s important here
what’s important is me
and you loving me
and me questioning
if you love me
and you, whoever you are,
proving that you do
and me being satisfied
and feeling loved
for about five minutes
until we start the whole thing
again because you love me
you let me torture you by
telling you about the men
whom I love, who,
through the same
twist of fate,
do not love me
and treat me poorly
talk about themselves
call me closer
and send me away
confident in my love
for about five minutes
when they call me back again
and again
and again
or until they meet a woman
whom they love
who calls them closer
and then sends them away again
and again
and again
you love me so much
that you haven’t spoken
to me in years
every now and then
I’ll reach out
to tell you that I miss
how much you loved me
and you’ll tell me to fuck off
because you love me
so much you think
we should not speak
for the rest of our lives
I tell you that I understand
I tell you that I’m sorry
that I don’t feel the same for you
I say how terrible it was
me stringing you along
accepting your love
when I knew I wouldn’t return it
even though you knew
I wouldn’t return it
because I told you
that I wouldn’t
and you gave it to me
freely freely but also
perhaps in the hopes
that one day I may
change my mind
and it may be returned
I feel badly and my apology
is sincere but, most importantly,
I’m still talking about me
and we’re still talking about me
and isn’t it still all really
about me
and how much you love me
and what you are willing
to put up with
to prove to me
that you do
which is now ‘no more’
so I’ll always remember fondly
the love you gave me
that I accepted but didn’t take
and how recklessly I handled
such a precious
and delicate
and tender gift
that you tried but failed
to convince me
that I deserved