Vanessa

The men of your life have you treated you so poorly.
Yet, I could be the worst culprit of the bunch.
I recognize why your daughter looks at me with suspicious eyes.
I appreciate why she doesn’t reciprocate my distrustful smile.
I understand why she walks out of the room each time I arrive.
If only you were to see through me in the same way that she does.
 
In between relationships, and here you are telling me that I am the kindest man you know.
But all you have seen from me is my plastic facade, the part of myself that I choose to make visible.
I know what passionately ignites you, but also what quickly suppresses those same yearnings.
I know that good-willed acts of kindness uplift you, but that conducts of deception rob you to your core.
I know far too much about you while you have yet to witness even a glimpse of my ugly side.
I hide from you my numerous motives, tonight’s concealed intentions, this moment’s hidden lies.
In between relationships, and I know exactly where this is about to go.
 
There was your biological father, the one who brought you into this world and started the cycle of dishonesty.
The one who cheated on your mom from the beginning and didn’t care if she knew one way or the other.
The one who showed no affection, instead outwardly expressing displeasure in everything about you.
The one who repeatedly called you a ridiculously juvenile mistake and his life’s biggest regret.
The one who walked out, leaving you with a crying mother, alone and terrified of her uncertain future.
 
There was the older, disheveled college boy, the one you hardly knew, who bedded you and made you a mom.
The one who argued with you from sunrise to sunset for the better part of a year.
The one who blamed, criticized, and belittled you for the life he believed had been stolen away.
The one who abruptly walked out on his child, like a feeble, craven coward.
The one who now avoids his six-year-old daughter like she’s a deadly, viral plague.
 
There was your best guy friend growing up, the one who took you to your high school prom.
The one who allowed you to feel young and carefree one last time before you returned to your forever reality.
The one who was hesitant to make a move on you in fear that you would derail his future too.
The one who had a lifetime of dreams ahead of him that still needed chasing.
The one who distanced himself by intentional avoidance, as he was untrained to do any differently.
 
There was the older, wealthier gentleman, your superior from work who promised you the world.
The one who provided support by taking care of all your financial needs.
The one who was proper, polite, and decent in public, but anything but when behind closed doors. 
The one who knew how much you needed him and used this to fulfill his deepest fantasies.
The one who you knew was already scouting your replacement even before his initial infatuation had ended.
 
In between relationships, and here you are telling me that I am the kindest man you know.
But it is with ulterior reasons this time that I offer you my ear.
I have just one goal in mind today as I lend you my shoulder.
Your gorgeous face and tightly toned body keep bringing me around.
Your immediate and compulsive desire to be needed keeps me near.
The hope is yet to be flushed thoroughly from your heart, but that’s near on the horizon.
In between relationships, and I know exactly where I’m about to take this.
 
The men of your life have you treated you so poorly.
Yet, I could be the worst culprit of the entire bunch.
I recognize why your daughter looks at me with suspicious eyes.
I appreciate why she doesn’t reciprocate my distrustful smile.
I understand why she walks out of the room each time I arrive.
If only you were to see through me in the same way that she does.

This poem is the result of a culmination of pain. You might be feeling grief or despair, but it doesn’t give you the right to take it out on someone else. I hate this poem, though I think it’s a very honest depiction. I have never behaved like this character, though there have been variations of the temptation when I’ve felt extremely low due to the hurt inflicted by others.

Written in 2020

Copyright, The Poetry of Bryan Buser