Getting Away with It

 She had a funny way
Of admitting to things
Without actually admitting to things...
Couched in a joke...
A hint of "lol" in her tone...
A touch of pride in her posture...
She'd say
That she "thought about it,"
If she weren't with me,
Of course...
At the time,
I'd cautiously laugh along...
Or she'd set up conditions...
If I, hypothetically, were to do
Some particular thing,
She would do someone else...
Truth to be told,
She accused me of "some thing"
Quite often...
It was never something I'd done,
But there would be a fight about it,
That she escalated,
And she would seek the counsel of
"A friend"
For several hours...
She had lots of friends...
Silly me, 
Thinking, at the time, 
That was the only thing,
Counsel, 
That was going on...
She basically admitted to many things
In one of the two
aforementioned fashions...
The events in particular
We're always brought up,
By her,
At random times,
After the fact,
Catching me off guard...
I guess she felt
That it got it off her chest
In a way that didn't
Fully incriminate her...
I didn't fully see the projection 
Until after the end
When she wanted to
"Stay friends"
After I wanted out,
And got out...
The same "joking" tales
Got retold,
And I didn't even try
To muster a laugh...
Just stared at some non-existent point,
Spacing out...
There was the same "lol" in her tone...
The same straightening of her back
With a bit of pride that
She didn't think would show...
But I notice these things...
And I noticed them in her
As she tried to
Cleanse her conscience
While rubbing it in
Like seasonings 
Into a rack of fat back ribs
Before the barbecue begins...