Monday, May 30, 2016

That kind of man



You’re that kind of man. I talk to you and find you attractive, you get my hopes up only to find out you are going  out with someone else. Then you want to meet me when I am seeing someone else. You wonder why I don’t kiss you good night.
You think I’m cold and guarded. I’m not.

Maybe this time.
Maybe in the beginning.

And then, unwillingly, unexpectedly, I fall in love. He promises the moon. He speaks of love.
He’s lying, of course.
He is that kind of man. He plays at being a man. He plays at being willing to give me what I want. He doesn’t even address a word to me for days. He thinks that’s ok. Proclaims this hollowness, this void, this abyss to be love. Proclaims it to be what he needs. I’m sure it is. It’s not what I need. I delude myself that he is being truthful. I know he’s not. I guess I am that kind of woman.
I used to be. It’s over.

That kind of man. I take comfort in being heard. We talk for hours. It was supposed to be a short phone call. We forget ourselves. You hear me out when I am alone and lonely and unheard. I think that is ok. It’s not. I grow attached. You want more. But you don’t want it all. You start playing. Déjà vu.

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Maybe I need freedom, I'll take this instead

On a lazy Sunday afternoon
on that tiny bachelor bed
naked and desirous both


What's to come? What's that we had?
Maybe I need freedom, I'll take this instead.

This one moment

I can see tomorrow in your lovely eyes
and a shade of something I can't quite define


I, who fear rejection, feel so safe and calm
I, who fear the future and resent the past


Have forgotten all and will envision none
You have stayed my mind in this moment in time

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Maze weaver

You're no friend of the truth, you are wed to your lies.
You would never talk straight; fabricate and disguise.
Coat it all in deceit, skip and bound in a phrase
Whatcha doing there, son? Built yourself quite the maze!

Monday, April 13, 2015

Remorse

Lurking behind you
in shadows he crawls
patience is his
yours the remorse.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Freedom!

I look at you and I cry “Freedom!”
Then slide inside my gilded cave.
Let me sleep here, let me have peace,
Don't drag me out into the night.

No symbolism

There is no symbolism.
No superstition.
There's just raw flesh
Beneath torn skin.