Another poem.
Her
Can’t be her
Don’t wanna be
I lied
I hated the way
You hated her name
Her
With eye contact
And eyes that rolled
Is the way you identified her
Can’t be her
But I wanted to
Ignite fire in your face
With simply not talking
Or talking too much
I couldn’t squeeze passion
Out of your rock heart
Like her
Couldn’t cause tirades
Of hurricane anger
Like her
Couldn’t cause pain
That burned for vengeance
Like her
Can’t be her
Thought that’s what you liked
In me
I wasn’t the bumblebee in your ear
Kind of girl
Didn’t stick so close that I
Took in your carbon dioxide
Didn’t vibrate like a pager on
Your hip
With disgust
I looked down on her antics
Can’t be her
I professed
Can’t be her
That’s why she nuzzles in your chest at night
While I wake up alone
Either
Her gnat-like nagging eroded
Your good conscious
Or you love her
Either
Her Medusa fueled tactics
Entangled you into a web built with guilt
Or you love her
Either I didn’t try hard enough
To mold my life into your life until we create a unique character of our own
Or you love her
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1 comment:
It seems like "her" really had a hold on him. I hate stating the obvious sometimes, but still. Coming from my viewpoint, that nagging and those tactics somehow have a way of eroding good concious and entangling us in a web of guilt--so you are right. It often takes us a bit of time to back out of those situations.
Love is a motherfucker sometimes.
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