He wanted a strong woman
a capable woman
a fierce woman
a loving woman
He wanted the fire
the warmth, the mystery
the ambition, the fight
the kind of woman who did not suffer fools
a woman
who knew who she was
who had stared into the depths
of her soul's mirrors
and faced each and every
hideous malformed self-reflection
to find the truth
the bareness
the sacred simple seed
of her
genuine most
unblemished self
she did.
and
she became
formidable.
she had reclaimed
her birthright
her authenticity
her feminine
her masculine
the soft
the hard
the petals
the thorns
the things she could be
and shouldn't be able to be
the ever encompassing
All
And he offered her
the seeming
safe haven
from the world which did not appreciate
her Kind.
He did this,
knowing
his truest
Want
He wanted a woman Perfect
but Not
Perfect for him
Not for others
He wanted a woman who could
and would
carry the weight of his world
on her shoulders
without complaint
despite the heaviness of her own
already attempting
to cripple her posture
chipping away
at her will
to move forward
a will
which renewed
at each
rising sun.
He wanted such a strong woman
that she could handle her own
travesties
alone
And still nuzzle her face against
his indifferent chest
at night
He wanted Athena
Coatlicue
Freya
Kali
he wanted all of these
and more
in her
of her
about her
a swirl of interminable
ferocity
cloaked in clouds
of beauteous gauze
knelt before him
curves draped
in the
silkiest finery
and ankles gripped
in the heaviest shackles
bejeweled as they could be
he wanted her
made up and bound
bundled tidily for him to keep
as a prize
as though she were
a conquest
a gift from the universe
albeit unearned
He wanted a strong woman
forgetting
that they do not remain
the shelf trophy concubines
of weak men
so imagine
his shock
and surprise
when he awoke
alone
the bold electricity
of her aura
having left his home
silent
and cold
he'd find the evenings
just as barren
and the next
and the next
and the next
every day
eyes fluttered open
the mind awakened
the clock
ticking its tocks away
into another
quiet
solitary
empty morning
he'd still blame her
for
being
who she had always been
and whose light
he never
deserved
All because
He wanted a strong woman
until her strength
became the sandpaper
to the thin delicate skin
of the ego
he had been cradling
for decades.
He wanted the woman who didn't suffer fools
except for him
He wanted the woman
who could catch other people's
deceptions
except for his
He wanted a woman
who didn't need anyone
except
for
huh
him
A strong woman
is only as resilient
as her partner
and he
was lacking
On an unassuming
autumn day
much like
every strong woman
who came before her
during their
own seasons
on their own schedules
of their own volition
she left
carrying
So much less
than before
Tag: poetry
tug of war
Familiarity
the rope which keeps us tethered
The tug of war
between mind and heart
between you and I
stay together
come apart
calloused palms
wounds healed
the blood
long since dried
reddish brown stained fibers
a reminder
of how hard we tried
I want to leave
I try to stay
You hold me close
you push me away
over and over and over
again
I lose
and
you don't win.
this push and pull
never ends.
This Is Not New
It never hurts less. It never "goes away" faster.
The gnawing knot burning in the bowels of the belly
Is that where the heart has fallen? The heat of the unrequited effort
a molten lava organ
searing its way down to the epicenter
of the soul
the stomach sickness
the churning and twisting
the absolute agony
of every memory
every sweet word
every cherished fingertip graze
half-smile
soft snore
cute quirk
all are sharp echoes
stabbing
and
stabbing
and
jesus christ am i bleeding
it never gets easier. familiarity does not bring speed to healing.
the emptiness a hollow of a wound deep and dark with no suture available
or even capable
the gaping pit heaving and undulating, whimpering and whining
crying and spitting
and hands grasp the outer folds
trying to bring it shut
clasp it together
self-soothing
tears in the darkness
while scrambling for anything
to seal the cavernous
maw of pain
so indescribable
fading in and out
how pretty the haze
it helps
remembering when
remembering when
remembering when
head on the lap
a quiet afternoon
the swell of new love
the surety
this is it
we were lost
we have been found
we are everything.
late movies,
staying in bed
curling bodies
big spoon little spoon
face to face
interlocking
unyielding closeness
the screaming and ripping torment of sentimentality brings everything into focus immediately.
but had it stayed that way...
had it stayed that way.
this is not new, but i wish it was.
i could fool myself into thinking
"it will be over soon."
The Second Death
I am once again mourning the loss of
What Could Have Been.
I have already gone through the grieving process of What Was
the death knell had been knocking,
knocking
knocking
and not quietly at that
there were moments when I thought perhaps we would pull through
the odd flickers of burgeoning life
peaking through the sickly nights
maybe we were not terminal
perhaps there was a chance
we could make it
we WOULD make it
a passing
dwindling
hope
as we continued the road
to expiration
the optimism of idealists
is the first bloom of
false spring
when it is still clearly winter
As our pulse faded
our breath slowing
to make way
for the
Death Rattle...
My tears had long since dried
The Acceptance,
a soothing balm
after the
initial shock,
the frustration fueled discussions
that circled
circled
circled
until they collapsed us into
a depressive heap,
the bargaining
for another day
another way
another chance...
The End was ultimately
The End.
I am comfortable with our passing.
Now I grieve for all
we will never be.
It is a second excruciating death
Far worse
Than the first.
This Tuesday Maybe
you can help me move that dresser out of your place
and into mine
the chest freezer can remain
just a while longer
weighted
with all the frozen meals
prepped months before
for our then
bright and splendid
future
This Tuesday maybe
I can swing by
toss a few more of my belongings
into some of my reusable
grocery bags
and you can watch me
brows scrunched
over your piercing blues
sadly?
with confusion?
regretfully?
with relief?
This Tuesday maybe
we can make idle small talk
while I keep my eyes
averted from yours
focusing only
on the task at hand
erasing my previous presence
from your home
one item at a time
I'll awkwardly joke
now you have your space again
and neither of us
will find the heart
to laugh
This Tuesday maybe
we'll want to give
or receive
a reassuring hug
a tender kiss
promises
that we can find a way
to make this work
anything
to make it hurt
somewhat less
but
we won't.
Not for the lack of
genuine want.
No.
Because lies do not suit us
and what remains
of our love
would never
deign to
lie.
Minnie Sans Moskowitz
The faint,
niggling itch
which began
at the root
of my
subconscious desires
wriggled its way
ever so more insistently
up its stem
fattening
its leaves
attempting to
unfurl
perfumed petals
hungering
to
fully blossom
i stood
wanting for the sun
of you
instead
that un-scratchable
annoyance
still persistent
unrelenting
and now
becoming the bane
of my muddled
existence
the itch
i
could not
scratch
always
just almost
always
never there
you
will never know
that you
are the tickle
upon my
goosebumped flesh
the elusive
almost
the resigned
never
your touch
is
a memory
kept
vibrant and hidden
fertilizing
the soil
within my soul
i look towards the east
but the sun
has since set
i miss being your bloom
Commiseration
We were both lost and broken And had given up hope when we met one another Tequila told the truth As we conversed in that booth and got to know more of the other The more we chose to share Of life and love being unfair The closer we soon became The bar lights gleamed bright What to do with the end of our night Both of us the lonely same We ended up falling tipsy into bed But became better friends instead and it's been oh so nice You've since asked what of him I've missed Was it the way he and I kissed His heat melting my ice? Was it his smile or his charm the ease in which he disarmed my defenses - one two three? The way he unmasked my disguise sturdy shovels for eyes digging down to the deep of me... I gave it thought, honest and true I'd not want to lie to you my newest cohort in loss I tried to put into words The tumbled thoughts which occurred And all I could say was - "The ease in which we spoke the stupid silly jokes I miss his sad rueful grin. The way he made me feel Seen, accepted, and real My qualities and my sins... I miss how he made me believe in forgiveness and reprieve That I had been absolved. But mostly, I miss my friend I miss what could have been How we could have evolved." With commiseration you gave a sigh No more talk for tonight Quietly we took our leave I can't help but think of him still Against my best wishes and will I remain unrelieved.
Baby Boy
my youngest son runs his fingers through my hair it is long not wavy not straight a thick, dark, gleaming mass of unruly poof but he claims to like the softness and i feel his tiny hands grooming me gentle with love and sweetness these days are short soon he'll be of the age where this will be taboo inappropriate "gross" but right now he is my baby boy loving his mother in the kindest most simplest of ways.
Haiku for a fool
Her cries to the sky
Agonizing against
The aching goodbye
Too Much
Brilliant and glowing
A star
A Sun
And you,
blinking,
wandered towards the warmth
the brightness…
this was new
and for a minute
you were happy
But the heat
The sweltering heat
What once soothed
now scorched
What once gave soft light
Now blinded
It was too much of what it was
And not enough of what you wanted
Stars burn until they don’t.
And one
cannot hold jurisdiction over stars.
