I’m possessive by nature
like a dog pissing on a tree
I like people to know what’s mine
If not the whole then a part
perfunctorily marking my territory
little parts here and there
that satisfactorily add up to
more than the complete picture,
so in a way I still
had my way with you
and it wasn’t a complete waste.
I could never have all of you
this I learned the hard way after
so I’ll settle for the smaller victories
the fact that an infiniti g35
is now your favorite type of car
the fact that you were never scared
of the farm silo by your house
before you met me
the fact that you never cry when sad
yet in your diary that I stole
you wrote (embarrassed) you’ve only
cried over one boy before
and I smiled remembered the warm
summer night at my house by the pool
(or maybe it was in your basement?)
where you cried in front of me
and over me, because of me
I own that piece of you
and until you meet someone else
who treated you as I did
I will always own that piece of you
the one boy who made the girl who got away cry.
It’s a two-way street –
you’ve got some small victories to your name
and own little pieces of me forever
add them to your collection of
field hockey first place ribbons
and the teeth you lost during “that game”
the fact that I can never think about
France the same way again
the fact that you told the checkout woman
we were brother and sister
and held my hand, and dutifully hugged my arm
to get a family discount at Barnes and Noble
the fact that
the fact that I can never look at daffodils
the same way after buying you a dozen
and having to throw them in the trash
you can take comfort in knowing you own
these parts of me, and probably always will
or maybe you’re not as sadistic as I am
another victory for me
I’m nomadic by nature, moving from place to place
person to person,
like a parasite
leaving only clues of my previous hosts
and conquests
traces of my influence
or, more appropriately, scars
visible only to those who know where to look.