saw

I feel like a saw with no edge.
Misinterpreted in my actions.
Do you think I’m petty?
I’m not, bitches,
So why do you cut my dullness?
It hurts like nothing else.
Blunt.
I have nothing; no solid to go back to in you.
Do I?
A ranting emotion.
Over-such,
And dizzy exhausted circular,
Sweat.
Disappointment has never felt so sore.
Associating memories with silly conversations,
And my own double-fucking-standard,
Bullshit:
You know me better than that.
I don’t know why I’m not trusted to act as I would.
Does distance really do this to people?
A physical bridge that makes me doubt,
Who we are.
I don’t expect explanations,
Or god damn platitudes.
My gestures aren’t tokens:
Ride on the subway,
Toronto transit here I come,
Suitcase,
Packing up life,
Transport me back to what it was,
What I wish it remained.
Butting out a finished smoking waning want,
Filtering the past away,
The final one: I wish it weren’t and it isn’t.