Because I still long for you,
carnally, passionately, and intensely.
I still dream of those lips,
their soft, thundering kisses.
I still yearn for those hands,
their gentle, fervent strokes and caresses.
I still miss the heat we share,
its ardent, blissful warmth that fills the space between us.
Lust, because after all these years,
I still always come back to your passion.
Because I indulge myself in thoughts
of you, forcing myself to have more of you,
wanting more of what is needed.
I want you soon, I want you eagerly.
Gluttony, because I starve for you,
and it is a hunger I cannot satiate
despite how many times we try to fill it up.
Because I want to posses you,
your time, your space, your attention. You.
I want the time you spend with others,
I want your presence and your touch all the time, and
I want the attention you give him.
I want the things you give them, even when
you have given them to me first,
in abundance, in luxury, in fulfillment.
Greed because I want you for my own,
even when you were mine, and I wasted everything.
Because I contest what you give them;
I believe I deserve them too.
Envy because I feel like I am losing
in this non-existing, self-made competition
between me and him.
I complete for your time, your presence, your attention–
things I had and I lost, and now I want them back,
and they belong elsewhere, with someone and something.
Envy because someone else is holding what used to be mine.
Because I am furious of what we have become,
of what I have done, of what I have made us into.
Wrath because I have the insatiable desire to kill–
to kill my darlings and kill my demons.
The desire to kill what was once a beloved.
Wrath because I cannot keep my calm,
wrath because I am too proud to lose.
Because I overestimated myself.
I thought I could be over you,
I thought I could move on,
I thought I could resist you,
I thought I was better than I am,
and I was wrong.
Pride because I am too proud to admit
that I am over you,
to admit that I haven’t moved on.
Pride because after all these years,
I keep making people believe I am the saint.
Because I am too lazy to do anything
about any of it, about none of it.
Sloth because I do not move forward.
Sloth because I have refused to exercise
wisdom, understanding, and fortitude.
Sloth because I would rather rot in pain
than get up and wrestle with my sins.