I cry about the incompatibility issues, but
I can’t waste any more energy
sulking over a man who is happy where he
stands, so I try to swallow the pain
stuck in my throat like an aftertaste.

I used to always joke about us
being so different and he would
cheer me up when I saw his face
he’d try to reassure me we were good
together, yet after we got done having sex
for lunch, the tears would pour down
like rain, and I would feel just as
empty as the way I came in.

He’d go home to his dog, and I’d go back
to my beautiful surprises, we didn’t see
each other often, just enough
to keep the loneliness company
and the benefits in tip-top shape.