It’s Over. For Real This Time. (I Promise With Crossed Fingers)

What is it,

About shit relationships,

That makes us keep coming back?

Is our self esteem,

Really so low,

That we return to the ones,

We know will betray us?

Or are we really so naive,

To believe the false promises,

That things will be different this time?

Are we too optimistic,

Clinging desperately to the hope,

That perhaps the other person,

Will change,

And actually mean what they say?

Or are we afraid of change,

Knowing at least,

We can accurately predict,

When and how things will go to hell,

Choosing the familiarity 

Of heartache and betrayal,

Over the uncertainty of the unknown?

At least in shit relationships,

We will receive attention,

Perhaps even affection,

Able to escape the paralyzing loneliness

And bury our shortcomings,

In cheap sex and meaningless conversation.

But is the depression and self hate,

Guaranteed to follow 

The inevitable horrible break up,

Really worth the fleeting affection?

Is watching your friend with benefits,

Move on and replace you,

While you’re left alone once more,

Truly worth a touch here and a kiss there?

In the midterm,

The point between breaking up and making up,

We realize the ramifications of our actions,

Just how badly we screwed up.

We make our promises,

To both ourselves and caring friends,

That it is finally over,

There will be no more interactions,

With our friend with benefits.

But time passes,

Anywhere from seventy-two hours,

To six months.

While we try to be good,

The solitude gets the best of us,

And we once more find ourselves,

In compromising positions,

With the ones we promised

We would never do such things with again.

Shame, regret, and self-hatred,

Fall to the floor,

Joining shed clothing,

That will be donned the next morning,

When we wake up,

And realize what we’ve done.

Once more,

We try to convince ourselves,

That things will be different this time,

Knowing full well,

That no matter how passionate the kiss is,

Or how good the release feels,

This will all explode in your face

And you will once more be left to wonder,

Why the hell,

You let this happen again.