Then
“Why doesn’t it feel good to touch you?”
you said
and then you asked me over
and over again.
That should’ve been a hint,
that drunken rambling
It should’ve been a clue
of where we were heading.
I should’ve known then
in that sickening moment
That something was wrong
that we were heading to over.
I blew it off though,
I pushed it aside.
I told myself you didn’t mean that
I told myself a lie.
I know now that was real
those words so direct and few.
Alcohol said what you couldn’t say
it made you tell the truth.
That even then you didn’t want me
five months before the end.
I should’ve listened to the truth
when I heard it then.
