Sylvie Hill

How Is Your Rot Going?

Tonight I wanted to call you
To see how your rot is going.
The last time I left you
I was saying “I feel sorry for you”
And you tried to fight me
Beside the Sobey’s
Before grabbing some smokes
To smoke me.

But I was not having any of it.
I said “this is unacceptable”
I am intolerant.

It was my last day in Ottawa
The afternoon before a big night
Of packing my shit
And taking flight
On a big move by myself
With no around to empty my boxes
Just me and my fitness
That you were hoping to destroy
With your alcoholism.

I know how food hurts your stomach
The gout in your foot from the boozing
I know you’re searching to fight me
To see if I love you enough
To put up with it.
“I feel sorry for you” when you glared your stare
and try to freeze me in your evilness
45 years, we broke up at 29
and I’m just getting now –
you’re abusive.

Tonight I wanted to call you
To see how your rot is going.

How your joblessness from being laid off
Because of your fucking moods
And negativity contrarianess
If you’ve lost the apartment
And if you’ve reached rock bottom
For good.

When I said you’re a good man
You said: “You don’t know me, Sylvie.”
I said are you better then or worse now?
And you just glared like you wanted to tell me.
Recently a man said as much:
“You want a relationship with me but you don’t know me”
A relationship, yes, but not with him
Sadly – I know his shameful kind is rotting.

But he was not having any of it.
Picked a fight about some disagreement
To exit fastest to go get fucked up again.

You cannot save an alcoholic
And they are never real in their states.
When you think they love you
And are tenderly caring for you?
It’s just the high talking
Soon, you’ll be easily replaced.

Sylvie Hill, Montreal, June 2019