Are we not on the same page?

We’re sitting on the same bench, occupying the same space and are similarly befuddled by the decisions you’ve made.
Are we not on the same page?

Did you take this long just to let slip that we are both summersaulting down different roads, past the pavement where you slipped your tongue into her mouth, rolling down the alley where you felt her hand on your chest and it beat so goddamn loud you didn’t hear me watch you with a breath so heavy it astonished the shit out of the man who owned the newspaper stand I was hiding behind, down the gutters of your infidelity, the sewage that filled up my heart up to my eyes that couldn’t see what was occurring right in front of me?

So before you let me down easy and tell me
“Baby. We’re losing sight of what we wanted to be.”
“Baby. It was never going to be easy.”
“Baby. Oh baby you used to be my only baby but now there’s not just another, not just two but three, who swing on this shaft
and rockabyebaby on my sweet cock,
when she would blow, the curtains fell off,
and now I’m shaking on the floor just a little shell shocked,
I didn’t hear you come in, did you forget to knock?”

Before you gargle the words out with your dick in your hand,
with the “it’s not what it looks like” and the “it was never planned,”
I’ll have you know that while she was rattling your bed,
he burnt a hole in my floor while giving me head.

Are we on the same page now?

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