A reaction poem

So there is a pattern
And I don’t like that it comes back to me every time
but it does
I am burning bridges
I am creating bad blood
Because being ‘good’ and ‘civil’ and ‘minding my manners’
Is something I can’t do

Not yet
Not when I want to cry all day,
(those salty, messy tears rarely come,
and when they do they offer little comfort.
I brush them off with mere anger.
Upset that I can’t control it)

Not when I want to scream bloody fucking murder.
Yelling silently out the window

And then I faltered in my heartbreak
I stepped over the line. I do fucking stupid things sometimes
But I do them because they make me feel better

Because I’m still mourning
Because I didn’t know if you were still reading or not
Because I was worried

Because I can’t talk to you the way I used to be able to
And that makes me fall apart
So I write, instead.

And what I said, what I was trying to say
Was that I wanted you to know how hard I was trying
To let you know that I hadn’t stopped caring

These words tend to sound melodramatic,
That I can’t manage to make it out of bed
(Which has happened)
But everyday is different
I have good days and bad days
And on some days I don’t think of calling you at all

The pattern is that
I have done this before.
To other people, to past relationships
Friends, lovers, family, men, and women
I excel at harnessing resentment
I refuse to be on good terms