I pity the un-betrayed


When I was a small boy
I was a shy boy,
but I was blonde and cute 
and other little girls liked me.

It was like this up until high school.
There was no abuse other than alcohol
back in those days.
But girls, girls liked me.

I was very conceited as a young man
so you can imagine 
how much I DIDNT get laid
when opportunities were offered 
left and right.

I was up there in my head.
Not a good place to be. 
Not in such frequency.

Finally, I was betrayed by a girl
and my best friend at the time.

I remember it feeling 
as if someone was knifing me
from within
but the blade never reached 
skin surface 
so the injury was never apparent to anyone but me.
No one understand the gravity of hurt.

It’s in the eyes, 
in that dour look on a man’s face
that hides anger and bitterness
It’s the eyes of the man 
who’s survived 
and is cautious of the battlefield now.

Betrayal.
The mother
of all
lessons.

I pity the people 
who haven’t been betrayed yet,
at least once.

Because
there’s betrayal everywhere
and from everyone.
Behind every corner
or sly smile or
half-convincing promises —
It lurks behind 
every love story 
ready to ruin itself.
There’s betrayal in your fucking
telemarketers at night.

I pity the unbetrayed.
For theirs betrayal
will echo louder
and hurt more
than the rest of us.

We already know.