Billy’s life of quiet desperation
never before concerned you,
so why pretend to care now?
I stepped in to fill the void you left
when you snuck away with Ted,
taking with you all Billy held dear.
You always were one to capitalize
on a situation others find abhorrent—
your optimism extending to no one but you.
Soon enough he’ll be out of reach.
Is that what drives you to grasp for him now?
Is that why you squeeze those tears onto his pillow?
I long ago learned the futility of trying to best you.
You play the game better than I,
never questioning the value of the prize.
If my tragic flaw is clarity of vision, so be it.
I’ll offer you my eyes and feel my way home,
blind to all, including that in me which I hate in you.