Believe You Me

I made a fortress out of this bed,
tenting myself in your old clothes and our old sheets,
spending every waking moment trying to recount my mistakes

I asked for the surgical removal of these recollections,
and of their mentioning your name,
and of the underlining and undermining of my mind

I put a typewriter at the foot of the bed and I allowed my right hand the release,
this was the only way for me to get off like I used to,
before you bled on me,
at first the way I liked,
but then it was far, far too much for comfort

I told you I stopped believing in you,
and I stopped believing in you believing in me,
and that I had come to peace with no peace over this torrid affair,
and that I had come up with ulterior motives to get up,

to get upright,
to get up write,

to get up and out of this divan of mine