I am an STD, hidden beneath
Lurking in the unseen,
Shamed for being me
A virus permeating. If you catch me..
You’ll be dirty too, so stay away.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
About my negativity.
But it wasn’t my fault.
It was passed on to me.
I thought it was love.
Well that’s what he told me.
Sharing is caring.
That’s what he’d said to me.
Don’t you.. look at me with your judgmental eyes.
You see… you don’t see.
You don’t really see me.
You just see what you want to see.
Look deep, look down.
Oh yep! There’s the frown.
You look disappointed…
Don’t worry. You can’t be as disappointed as me.
The echo’s get louder.
‘You don’t love yourself’ says he.
‘That’s not true…’ says me.
‘You lied.
You took what you wanted.
You rolled the die.
You left me here.
Did you think I’d cry?’
He laughs. That laugh. Infectiously.
But this time.
I see.
It’s not too late.
‘Catch’ he throws…
‘No thanks’ I reply..
I walk away.
‘How ridiculous’.. I think.
Just then. I thought that STD was me.
Written by Becki Burrows
May 2018
©Copyright owned Rebecca Burrows 2007
In the poems I’ve read so far there is great honesty, but also a frustration with how things are. This one was a little difficult to read, perhaps the structure or punctuation makes it like this deliberately. I like how it comes full circle and concludes, you’re not the STD.