Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Safe Zones

6:06 brings the sunrise

but fiery skies

can’t chase away lonely

even though it feels most comfortable

cloaked in the inky blackness of night

Time

makes alone safe

and as 50 approaches like a freight train

it seems easier than starting over

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Mulberries

The mulberries 

stain your fingertips and lips blue

The sting of knees skinned by pavement 

forgotten when the sweetness hits your tongue

and it’s summer once again

Playgrounds

How many people’s lives are you allowed to ruin

in your own search for happiness?

Surely it is finite

maybe at some point the universe will stop you

but maybe not

You would think there would be a limit to one’s suffering

and sorrow

but it seems there isn’t

The world is always the kid

standing at the top of the slipper slide

waiting to kick you back down

after you’ve struggled

gripped the sides tight

dug in the toes of your tennis shoes

climbing up that slippery slope

to the peak where the happiness seems to reside

Silly girl

you’ll always be the not thin enough adolescent in polyester shorts

whose thighs rub together

who gets made fun of on the playground

and nobody wants to slow dance with in junior high

I Hate You

There is no love for my body

only hate

No matter how much I weigh

it is always too much

Men will say “I love curvy women”

But what they really mean is

“I love thin women with full breasts and hips but I do not love you because you are fat and that does not equal curvy”

I am 49 and there is no peace to be made

with this carcass

I will go to my grave hating it

for being ugly

White Noise

You’re still out there

seeking approval

from men pretending to care about you

giving them what they want

just in time for them to disappear like apparitions

And you

ever transparent

they see into your heart

and use your dreams against you

trust no one

the voices tell you

but the words get lost in translation

and it’s all just white noise

to a girl who

can’t seem to let go of hope

 

 

Fresh Paint

I paint over the memories

of the abuse

you drowning in drugs and alcohol

one coat

two coats

hoping for a clean slate

but nothing blocks it out

or washes it clean

I’m still dirty with all of it

 

 

Apathy

I never loved you enough

to hate you

but you

inked my name on your body

as if you would love me forever

then changed your mind

wife #2

wife #3

hating me when the love for 2 and 3 lost its shine

fresh ink covering up the anniversary present to yourself

as I covered up the ring

(which never suited me)

with pieces of costume jewelry

(which bore no special significance)

in my jewelry box

 

 

 

Old Concert T-Shirts

the old concert t-shirt

was the only thing you left

when you left me

even though it was one of your favorite bands

maybe it reminded you too much

of the night we met

pushed up against each other

in a sea of people

I turned to look at you

and I instantly knew

I would be okay with seeing your face

across the table over my coffee cup every morning

for many mornings to come

but one day

the music just stopped for you

shared song lyrics were no longer enough

in a world filled with temptations

of new tunes

so here I sit

in your holey concert t-shirt

drinking coffee alone

Utilitarianism

My body has become

utilitarian

my legs merely carry me through days of loneliness

my arms no longer know how to embrace a man

my hands have forgotten how to alight upon skin to bring pleasure

and only go through the motions of sustainment

wash

chop

open

fold

type

my heart serves only to syncopate the silence of singlehood

What is left when your body has forgotten how to live?

 

Ordinary Things

Love me the most

for the ordinary things

for the way I get lost in the music

and sing like no one is listening

for the way I have conversations with my animals

like they’re people

for the way I vacuum the floor

and fold the towels

for the way I kiss you every morning

before you walk out the door

like it might be the last time I see you

Love me

just because

I’m me

and there’s no one else like me

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Sparklebumps: The Mother Version

Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.

I invite you to read my short novel below.

May the novel bring you inspiration in your daily ruminations.

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