Don’t press her buttons
Then tell her she’s crazy.
Don’t let her do everything
Then make her feel lazy.
Don’t make her cry
Then call her a moan
Don’t not listen
Then wonder why she groans.
Don’t shut her out
Then ask her why she pouts.
Don’t be a dick
And watch that mean mouth.
Don’t call her a bitch
When she won’t have sex
Don’t not call her
And wonder why she’s vexed.
So many don’t s
So much to remember
But don’t worry if you can’t
She ‘ll be gone by December
I am aeons old
Memories fall over me that are sourced beyond this lifetime.
I have seen the shadow and shade of a million sunrises and of a billion dawns.
I walked with mammoths and swam in the first trickle of what you now pour down your throat.
When I close my eyes I have leagues and legions to keep my tired mind awake.
I am older than you can ever begin to imagine.
But only because I remember.
I remember it all.
The clang. The pressure. The bang.
I was here but so were you.
You changed. I changed.
Form and format.
Sulphuric air to liquid lair then beautiful solid shapes.
Soon I will be plasma but I won’t forget your eyes.
The anchor to my every life.
In each tick of a meaningless second
In an infinity of moments
I am yours.
All shapes. All matters. All ways.
I say your name but there is no reverberation.
The universe just won’t play ball
The ground shrugs its shoulders.
It knows better too.
I close my eyes and try to remember softness
But my heart is laughing
And suddenly I am laughing too
There is no you. There never was.
Just a series of blips falling somewhere on alien ears.
There are no bits or bytes
No silly fights
Just a silence made lighter by your absence
And a life lived so much better without your acid making it bitter.
Half finished knitting, lying like a sad multicolored cat on the table.
A half crudely cut curtain grimacing at me from the shadows
Projects I intend to finish but never do.
I do things by halves. Perfect halves.
That’s heart and soul and pieces of flesh.
And that’s why I’m finished. Complete.
You came into this halfheartedly.
And now I am at a loose end.
I cannot read others’ emotions
They weigh too heavy on me
The words nestle too long in my sad soul
I cannot take in extra luggage
I cannot carry the heaviness of a thousand writers
All I can do is emit, expel to propel.
I can only hope that a lighter heart can share my burden or at least let my words wash through them.
I am much too much a sieve.
I am too easily spent with others
You wanted me to straddle.
A limb in each corner.
One burning with the uninhibited heat
The other, pale in life’s banal never-ending joke.
You enjoyed the tearing, the pulling apart
Not of my body.
Ah but of my dreams.
Do you know what torn hopes look like ?
They are jagged. Shorn. Shook from their mother’s milken tit.
Left to mew in the icy shadow of your shrug.
But I am made of moss and I flourish where roses die.
I don’t cry.
Not for you, you wicked thing.
Made worse by no awareness of your hacking.
A shears sheds no tears when flowers fall.
But I am no flower.
I am the tower.
So shears to you my dear.
Make sure you look me in the eye.
No not down there. Up. Up in the sky.
I found perturbed slumber in between the craggy folds of an old blanket
Nestled into a dark room wishing it were smaller.
Only a cocoon would do the trick ,
Tighten around me and let me rest while I grew and changed.
Instead I settle for fitful sleep
Where all the lies you ever told
Make me see there was no baseline with you.
“Hello”, could mean anything.
The intent of your very smile
Will keep me wondering.
But only for a while.
I squandered my dreams on you already
And it’s giving me no good answer, no peace.
So I make my own.
No need for you to explain.
I understand more than you think
And I think more than you can ever understand.
I know what you are. Not of my earth or air.
I would dissect you further but I really don’t care.