Rattle

In order to count yourself
among the jaded and the
wounded, you draw out
the lines of an old love that
was nothing more than
a number of little mistakes,
and you know it.

Regurgitating popcorn words,
claiming them as your own
in order to feel vindicated,
justified, and redeemed.
With the subtlety of a Mac truck
you lay out your words like
a street peddler, and we all
wince.

I find it hard to believe
that after all of this time,
you have nothing else to
dwell on. But then again,
I shouldn't expect a child
to be anything but childish.