patterns of anaxiphilia

i remember every time you left me out in the cold.

words you spoke to me were spring insisting upon its arrival in the midst of a january in new england
left alone in the conditions of a blizzard, you deceptively furbished your machiavellian endearment into a switchblade and granted its powers in misdirected lechery to someone peripheral in our penchant of faulty barbarity

every word to slither off your twisted tongue was towering in the direction of frosted omission

if i am a non-achiever, a purpose lacking motivation, you are an underachiever

if i am defective in love, you are lazy and an ineffective vindication for each intemperate wrong that has struck me across the cheek and been kept out of sight for your peace of mind and your community's reputation

if you are one of those men who can never evolve past childish ideals of sexual intimacy and household responsibilities for a woman begging for a genuine partnership, i will sulk around in my poetry where you can't deny my memories, where you can't erase my perspective

if the never ceasing nights of being kicked out, being thrown around, all the nightmarish screaming matches are solely on my conscience in your view, i will write myself into clarity to reassure myself that i am lovable and to remind myself daily that you simply cannot love anyone the way you properly should
one day the ice caps will completely melt away and the oceans will flood with the tears you laughed at while looking into my eyes

your camouflaged concreteness will be displayed in crystal clear self-adulation; and my feeble inclinations to a personal disservice i love to hate repeating, one i have foolishly typecasted as constancy and genuineness, will fade away like my willingness to hold someone's hand or get into bed with another man

because i can go wherever i want, talk to whoever i feel inclined to communicate with, but the frozen glare you gave has been imprinted in my head, and the callous words you left on my wrists when you deserted me in the arctic weather that december night are never passing in my head until i'm dead