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Monday, March 28, 2016

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Thursday, March 24, 2016

Tell

I keep writing myself
poems
so I can remember
not to fall in love
with you.


But then you go and give
me
the keys to your house
and tell me to
hang around as long
as I want and watch
cartoons while
you work.


And then when I say
no thanks,
you insist on
helping me
load my bike into
my car


And this is where I would normally
declare my independence
and say
I can do it myself,


But you make me
want to let you
do things for me. Because
you seem to like it


And so when
you grab
the check and pay
the bill every time
we go out to eat,


I no longer insist
on splitting everything
halfsies.


I want to let you
Take care of me.


And this is something
I haven't
felt in a while.
So although
I keep writing
these poems
to remind myself
not to fall in love,


You reach over
to me in the
morning
and pull me
close to your body,
hold me tight,
and offer to make me
coffee


And bring it to me in
bed, hot and dark,
your smile
as bright
as the day outside
your windows,
blocked by metal shutters
so your room stays
dark and cool
no matter the time of day.


And all these reminders
I keep writing on the walls
are not working
at all.




Who wouldnt love (Reprise)

After the first time we fucked I wrote a poem about you titled
The Man who Would not Love Me.
I wanted to remind myself that I knew you were going to break my heart
And that I had entered into this agreement willingly.

The time we stopped fucking for a month my
grieving heart splintered into tiny shards of glass
And I wanted to use one of them to cut it out of my body so I would not have to feel anymore what it felt like to love you.
But instead I searched for the poem to remind myself, (willingly)
and it--
like my dignity--
had disappeared.

The third time I asked you if we could start fucking again,
You asked me what was going to be different.
"I've put you into a different box. It'll be different." I said. "Trust me." You didn't--
But then: "You're a grownup, so I'm only asking you this once: Are You Sure?"
What I didn't say:
I knew that you weren't going to love me back how I wanted to be loved.
And I wanted to love you anyway.


II
The time I broke my leg
You brought me books and movies and laughter
"HEY NOW, none of this moping-" You said.
You gave me encouragement and guidance. You said you would have been at the hospital holding my hand through the pain if you could (I didn't believe you, but it was nice of you to say.)

But you would not do the one thing I wanted most: lay down in my bed and hold me.
When you went home I cried and then had a crazy-freak-out Percocet drug trip where you appeared to me as an apparition.
You said, as directly as you'd ever been to me in real time, "I'm not going to be that guy for you."


III
The first time I really accepted you for who you are,
I was able to love you for who you were able to be with me
Instead of who I wanted you to be. 

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

No more broken woman poems

I’m done with
broken woman
poems.

I’m done with
victim

I no longer
want to have to
disclose

“What happened to me”
to new lovers

I’m done with
broken

I’m done with
shame

I reject the
notion
of unwholeness.

I become
whole. I exude full. I create

the totality of
me
I am not
what happened

I am not the
little
girl

who was violated

I am not
what he did

with his sick
desires
to my little girl
body
his sick wanting hands
exploring
unwanting
flesh

I am not
the unwelcome
penetration
of my
spirit’throat, silencing
me for years

crushing my inner
being

his mistake
does not
define me.
his sickness doesnotdefineme
does not create
any part
of my reality anymore.

I am whole
I am love
I am free
I am navigator
I am lustful
I am desirous
receiver

of strong woman
and man
hands into
my spiritbeingbody

I am lover
I am goddess
I am Her.
I am
That.

Not broken woman
Not shamed little girl
Not his secret
Not mistake.


What happened when you blew smoke into my lungs

All time stopped.
All need for holding on
to control
to keep track of things,

Disappeared.

Now I was
just
body
just
human
riding waves

to pleasure
and more pleasure
You were
Just tongue
Just safe
Just mouth

You
became an
extension of me,
my orgasm
rested in
your hands

no reason to
hold back

no hold back
i don’t even know
what hold back means
anymore.

You, suddenly inside me,

The word forms
first in my head
then, quietly
makes its way out
of my
mouth,
tiny

“Wait,”

and then

“Not yet,”

and,
miraculously, you
do.
Stop. wait. patient.
Looking at me

with eyes that say,
“What do you need?”

and

“Tell me.”’

You
kindness

I, trust.

Then more
I am leading you
now

wave after wave after wave

you in mymouth
wanting
throat open

me saying
“Not now,”
you

Perfectly
okay,
with the waiting

the holding back

the delay
of your pleasure.

Next morning,
I say

“Thank you,”

when what i mean is
for listening.

"When I said wait,"

you look baffled.
say,
“Well, Yeah.”

Look perplexed
that anyone
would not-

I don’t tell you
about the
times
they did not
wait.

Not yet.