Tag: love

duty & obligation

I’m stopping this
madness. look, the last thing
I want is for you
to feel obligated. I know
I’ve been putting a lot
of pressure on you
to give me back
that pesky trinket
I keep forcing on you, but
never mind. obeying the letter
of the law is utterly meaningless
without the spirit
behind it, and even a gift
freely given is not truly a present
if it comes with a million
strings attached. it’s okay.
I’ll just buy another
pen.

election

I guess I’ll vote if
they even let me, but
to be honest, I really don’t care anymore
who wins for real and who steals
the election. I can’t seem to vote out
my useless, corrupt heart, so I’m electing
to shut off my pain.

let Trump turn this country
into a post-apocalyptic wasteland,
then at least I wouldn’t feel
so all alone in my terrible
despair. let Hillary sell all our souls
to the banks and corporations
for all I care. I lost mine long
ago.

let’s fucking burn America
to the ground, please just take me down
with it. as long as everyone
will finally shut up about it,
and let me die
in peace.

to my therapist, who’s also not helping

I understand why you told me
to do that thing, but it’s no
good. I didn’t do it
and I’m not going to. there’s no point.
I need to face facts
and accept the reality
of what I cannot change.
asking why
is an exercise in futility
that will only lead
to even more
awkwardness. anyway
there’s no explaining chemistry
or lack thereof. why put him
on the spot when
there’s no good answer
to be had?

really at this point I feel
like the only thing
he could say that would make
everything all right
is “I lied before. I do
love you and want you.

(you’re not ugly, worthless,
broken and/or fundamentally
unlovable)

the real reason
I’ve been pretending
it’s not gonna happen
is because I’m afraid I’ll let
you down.”

my expecting that
to happen is like thinking
a damn Pegasus will just canter up
and invite me telepathically
to go for a ride. all my wishing
and hoping can’t
make the impossible
come true. so please, stop
enabling my madness.

to my most unhelpful subconscious

Look. I did not need
that dream. haven’t we decided that
nothing good
can come of this obsession? did you
think it was cute, to make me dream that he
got all up in my face and
my eyes got so huge and
I didn’t know if it was from fear
or from desire and
maybe it was both and then
you had the nerve to make him
kiss me. even in
my own damn dream, he seemed
sort of angry about it.

point taken, subconscious,
you dick. there’s nowhere I can go
to escape this awful knowledge
that it’s never going to happen
and I should just
get over it. thanks a fucking
lot.

a temple in the moonlight

remember that time,
last summer, I think, or maybe it was
more towards the fall,
after that group dinner, when we
sat in the park
and talked for hours?
our mutual friend came with us
but he left fairly quickly
and then we were alone.

we talked about politics,
if I recall correctly. remember
that little temple that looked so mysterious
and romantic in the moonlight?
I think I said the former
but not the latter. I was too
shy. apparently
so were you. or you didn’t
notice.

it’s a moot point now, but
for your future reference, when you’re
alone with a girl
in the moonlight
and she says she’s
cold, that might be a cue for you
to put your arm around her
if you so desire. and if she mentions
how beautiful the scenery is,
while staring longingly
at the moon, she might be wishing you
would man up and kiss her.
if you had the sense
god gave a flatworm, you’d know
that. or maybe you just lacked
the inclination. I guess I’ll
never know, but I’ll always remember
that night and how magical it was,
how it seemed filled
with endless possibilities. if I knew then
what I know now, I’d
probably remember it
quite a bit
differently.

the message

I’ll write it
in a fortune cookie fortune –
you never order
Chinese. I’ll write it in the sky
in puffy white letters fifteen feet tall,
and hope you don’t leave
the house that day. I’ll write it
in BBQ sauce on your plate
when you go to the bathroom,
and hope the waiter clears
the dishes before you return.
I’ll write it in chalk on the sidewalk
and watch little girls play games
all over it. I’ll write it in blood
on the inside of my lungs,
I’ll write it in tears on the inside
of my eyelids, I’ll write it in aspartame
on the inside of a diet Coke can,
I’ll write it in crumbs
for the pigeons and squirrels
to spread the word,
for sparrows
to hop on your windowsill and
tell you in a series of chirps that you can’t
possibly understand.
I’ll write it in sighs
on the wind.

all of these
would be a better way
to communicate
what I know you don’t want to hear
than opening my big fat mouth
and saying a single word.

300

look. don’t try to pretend
you don’t like me. we’re way too deep
for those kinds of games.
I’m not asking for the moon, you idiot,
or anything you are not willing
to give. haven’t I proved
my patience by now?

you’d be lucky
to have me. I’m fucking
awesome and I think
my resume has proved
that I am a great girlfriend.
fuck you if you think
I’m not good enough
for you.

I can go on a well-known website
where one can post free personals
and easily amass a veritable
army of dudes
begging me to grace them
with my presence. I can recreate
the movie 300
with men who would love to be
my paramour.

don’t make me sic them
on your ass.