The Break-Up Poem

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Heaven’s where the heart is 

And baby, my heart ain’t with you 

I thought it was once, when I was good at lying 

 

Man, 

I twisted the truth more than the spirals on an antique telephone cord 

 

Antique, 

That’s what my beliefs were. 

  

Stay for the Kids, I said 

So I stayed, and they watched us fight. 

I stayed, and they watched us do drugs. 

I stayed, so I could pass out  

face down 

ass up 

drunk  

and hung over 

  

Who’s gonna let Tiger into our shambled cardboard box of shame 

After school in the middle of winter? 

  

Certainly not me I’m drunk on the couch  

Not you… You’re… working? Gambling? Selling drugs? 

Trying to stay away from me? 

  

No wonder he doesn’t come home. 

I would wander the desert too. 

Just how deep is the river of childhood PTSD 

From slamming doors and secret scenes of slamming syringes 

  

Wanna swim across?  

  

Hey… Remember that time he took a crack pipe to Grandma's house for Christmas? 

How many times did they see me leave only to watch me crawl back? 

Professing my love and itching for a fix! 

  

Yay! Daddy’s Home! 

  

My addiction crawled through the side window just to get back in… 

I wonder if it passed my heart as it was on its way out the back door. 

  

A part of me says that I should feel shame that the first taste of happiness to touch my troubled taste buds happened behind bars in the county jail. 

But I don’t. 

what do 70mph, B.A.C. .172, a curb, a fence, 6 police officers, A felony 

And the end of this poem have in common? 

 

The minimum requirements for us to break up for good. 

And good riddance