Just Like You

You claimed I did not understand you,
but you left because you know I do.

I know every nuance of your sickness,
how you crave and need your next thrill,
the power of being so much wanted,
the excuse that it is because you are ill.

There was danger in your great passion,
there were tears when you were ashamed,
when you knew that you were repeating
the same pattern again, again and again.

Too many times, now, to remember,
and that only adds to your remorse;
layer upon layer of regret and sadness,
leading inexorably to a bitter divorce.

You claimed I did not understand you,
but you left because you sensed that I do.

When at last I sought to interdict,
and coax you, in honesty, to confess,
that is when your resolve faltered,
the very next day is when you left.

You claimed it was because you love me,
said I deserved to have the very best,
and with you love would not matter,
said your leaving was at God's behest.

Of course I understood that you were lying,
I know the need to be both victim and savior,
the truth is your next thrill was waiting,
your next conquest, your latest flavor.

You told me I did not understand you;
the more frightening truth is, you know that I do.
And had your courage allowed the asking,
you would have learned that I, once, was just like you.

So you claimed I did not understand you,
but you left because you know damn well, I do.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012