I feel sad for him, I decide as I watch him fight against the wind. Does it make me a bitch, that I forced him out of my house at two in the morning during a snow storm? Probably.
But he deserved it.
Cheeky bastard,
living off cranberries like that
Feeling uptown, lying down
Hitting yellow and drinking cosmos
Unlikely
Hot and smooshed and just so frilly
Frilly, like a dress
Annoying, living under wraps
Like him
And me
And us
Because we are
Under wraps, I mean
Secret.
Keys and houses and flower pots
Empty of seedings
Though he is full
Of them
And so am I
Hot and bothered, as they say
Cool and frigid, he claims
Trees and bushes and trails
To magic waterfalls
Obscured behind the lies
The feelings
The guesses and the guests
Hiding
From me, or because of me, I don't know
His mother, scowling
She can't see me
For him
For anyone
Frankly, it surprises me
That she can be loved
And I cannot
But he always was a momma's boy
Oedipus reborn and retitled I suppose
I really shouldn't give a Freudian shit
But I do
Because, even if he can't for me
I can for him
And do.
Yelling daisies and flaming whores
Circling round him like bees
Stinging
Flying
Ready to bite
I hate bees
The bug spray never works though
I'm not powerful enough
He doesn't use me
Doesn't acknowledge me
Until we're alone
Just us
And suddenly I'm queen
And none of the others matter
Because nobody does
Except him
And me
And us.
I wish
But it never comes true
Ever
And then I admit it
Hurts, stings, burns
Wish he could see me
For all that I truly am
Instead of what I could be
Could do
For him.
Under him, around him
Surrounded by him
Always have been, always will be
Stay
Always staying
Never going
Though I should
I should go, should run, should flee
I should fly
Because I can
Leave him
Though it would be hard
I need to do it
He can find me if he likes
But I have to save my pride
To heal my heart
To live
Finally
What I've been denying myself
Since I first fell under his spell
Under his body
Under his soul.
Now I'm on top.
I'm like...stalking you now. But, ya know, not in a creepy way. ;)
ReplyDeleteAhem, anyway. This? Yah, it's wonderful. I just...I want moooore. (Getting tired of hearing that from me yet?) More more more.
I don't read a lot of poetry, because I was homeschooled and my mom isn't a big poetry fan so it wasn't showcased to me a lot (or really at all). I said that so that saying that I love this, means I love it for what it is. I don't know if it's proper poetry or if its stanza or rhythm or whatever the hell poetry stuff poetry is supposed to have, is good. But I know that it makes me feel. That it captures me in the way you break it up and the way you tell a story. That is resonates a powerful kind of powerfulness (my vocabulary is awesome) in the abruptness of some of the lines.
In short (ha), while I know it's used so often it's lost some of its meaning, I really do love this.