I know.
You’re probably right:
you’re not worth it.
You can’t offer me anything close
to what I want;
you don’t have it in you.
And I don’t have it in me
to be satisfied with what you will provide
(it is, after all,
so very little).

And you’re right:
I will get over this.
It seems inconceivable
that I would stay in this state
interminably. Eventually,
I’ll escape this funk
and feel better about myself
and feel less bitterly about you.
Someday, I will think of you
with a smile.

Not today.
Is it obvious
you’re too important to me
for me to be wistful
and neutral
and happy.
I will come back to you
when I can see you
from the proper perspective.
I hope you’ll still be here
but if you’re not
by then
I guess it’ll be just as well.