When It Is, But It Aint

Some of us love badly.

Sometimes the love is the type of love that implodes.
Folds in on itself. Eats its insides.
Turns wine to poison.
Behaves poorly in restaurants.
Drinks. Kisses other people.
Comes back to your bed at 4am smelling like everything outside.
Asks about your ex. Is jealous of your ex.
Thinks everyone a rival.

Some of us love others badly, love ourselves worse.
Some of us love horrid, love beastly.
Love sick love anti light.
Sometimes the love can’t go home at night,
can’t sleep with itself, cannot contain itself,
catches fire, destroys the stomach,
strips buildings, goes missing.
Punches. Smashes heirlooms.
Tells lies. The best lies. F***s around.
Writes poems, impresses people.
Chases lovers into corners.
Leaves them longing. Sea sick.
Says yes. Means anything but.
Tricks the body.
Kills the body.
Dances wild
and walks away,

smiling.

Why should you apologize
for the monster
you’ve become when
nobody apologized
for creating
the monster that
you are?

But the serious answer to that
is because you make monsters too.

And that apology you never got
is the apology you never gave.

It ain’t even about me.
Remember every single time
a person ever done you wrong,
and any s**t part of your life, you gotta realize
that you can’t control that.
The only thing you can control
is your own self.

The only power that you have
is to make another persons world better.
And no, it ain’t power
to make a persons world worse;
anybody can step on a bug.
And you best believe something
is gonna make that persons life bad without you.

No, the only power you have
is your capacity to be a better person
than anyone has been to you.