It's All Your Fault

And it's Jesus' fault too.
He set me up.
Got sick of me being a female Morrissey
    full of (fake) apathy  
        and emotional nihilism
            to the point of
                  not.
                  ever.
                  seeing.
                  you.
                  coming.
 
Happy now?
Both of you---Jesus and you.
Succeeded in blindsiding me with
           possibilities
               and thoughts, I'd locked away
                  and the flush that swells up in me
                     when you call me "Babe".
 
Now I have to exercise out, the bump of fat
that filled in the spot
where my uterus was
      so I don't
         look a little pregnant  
            with the baby I can't ever give you
               but wish with all my not-so-cynical-anymore,
                   heart,
                     that I could.
 
 
I tried not to love.
Tried real hard.
Failed real hard.
        Fell real hard,
          enough to wash away all the past hurts
              with the tears I should have cried
                 many times
                   to.
                   just.
                  let.
                  the.
                  past.
                  go.
 
I want to wear a pretty dress
whenever the opening credits roll
announcing the future
while we run, laughing on a beach
any beach
      and you'll bring your guitar
         and we'll make up songs as we go
            and my dress will be purple
              to match the veins in my ankles.
 
 It's all your fault
that I fell in love with you.