Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the tag “love”

Dilapidated Hearts

house

They tore it down

along with everything

that was left of us

rafters exposed

building bones stripped bare

of everything once held dear

(love)

(respect)

(laughter)

left exposed to the elements

to warp and rot

ofttimes the way love does

too much space left in between

the studs

16, 24

the years pushing them further apart

instead of bringing them closer together

cracks

in the foundation of promises

shingles pulled back from the roof

after weathering too many storms and harsh words

which couldn’t be repaired once spoken

leaving a breach

for the rains to permeate

and fester

the black mold

which brought it all down

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An Aperture to Love

if you died today

my eulogy for you would merely be me listing all the reasons I loved your lips

 

the way the spoke with kindness and respect

the way they curved up at the edges with laughter

the way they kissed with passion

the way they emitted sighs of contentment

 

but your lips were merely a figment of my imagination and the stuff dreams are made of

 

 

 

First Love

If there was a salve which could heal your heart

I would travel miles

and spend every last penny I had to buy it

but that particular elixir doesn’t exist

and those who tell you differently

are just snake oil hawkers

who lie

I am powerless to fix what ails you

as you have that condition of the human heart

called love

and it will wound you

numerous times throughout your life

But none so deeply

as when you become a parent

and are unable to mend your child’s broken heart

the first time he falls

Talking About Love

He said, “Mom, I’m not sure I know what love is, but I think I might love her. Even though she and I might never be more than just friends, I want her to be happy.”

I said, “So you do know what love is then. You know exactly what it is.”

 

 

 

 

Cleaning Day

i scrub and scrub and scrub

my skin wears thin

from the scraping of the brillo pad

it makes no difference

i am still dirty

i add cleanser

i am still not clean

i put the bleach bottle to my lips

and drink

because i realize the dirtiness

has penetrated my soul

oh how it burns on the way down

and i know that must mean it’s working

but it doesn’t clean me

and only leaves a hole the size of a quarter in my stomach

you stupid bitch

i say to myself in the mirror

you disgust me

the scars he left have dug their filthy tendrils

too deeply into me

they are ingrained

maybe he was right

no one else will ever love me

Semantics

The words will never come

when you want them,

and rarely show up when you need them.

The words were you.

You were never there.

While at the same time,

words were all you were.

Such a way with words you had.

It’s always the words that draw me in,

and do me in.

And it’s always the words that fail me.

And in sweet irony, it’s the words that save me.

Every damn time.

Coming Up Empty

she sought love wherever she could find it

in the back seats of cars

or dorm rooms

or on picnic tables at the lake

it really didn’t matter

she had no shame

when it came to seeking love

 

the shame came after

but the love never did

 

 

 

 

Sowing The Seeds Of Love

you sow the seeds

but you only grow weeds

in your little garden you planted with her

fertilized with bitter words

showered with yelling like the squawking of a crow

“I love her, but I have my doubts it will work”

you told me

(and I wondered why you were bothering trying again)

ever the scarecrow

you don the overalls and the floppy hat

but even you can’t stop the foraging

your previous crop with her had failed

withered on the vine

you were different gardeners

both of you

afraid to throw in the trowel

so to speak

you can’t seem to take the sage advice

of the farmer’s almanac

about cultivating a healthy  harvest

you reap what you sow you know

you have weevils

grubs

pests eating at the roots

nibbling away at the foundation

chop it all down

compost the crap

let go

and let it return to the earth

maybe then

you will find someone

who can help you bring in a crop

 

 

 

 

Conformity

 

box

I sawed

and I chopped off

pieces of myself

trying to fit into the box

you made for me

tossing away

and shedding

all of those things

which made me

me

I rearranged

morphed

and deconstructed

the only me

I had ever known

and still

there was never enough room

in your heart-shaped box

for all the space

that I encompass

for all that I am

 

Barren Ground

barren

 

I pour the words out on the page

hoping to arrange them in some sort of order

to make my feelings known to you

and understand them myself

but it’s all just so much claptrap and drivel

you wouldn’t notice anyway because you don’t pause to read it

“Ugh, it’s poetry”, you think

“Don’t waste my time with that bullshit”

but it’s not merely my words you disregard

it’s me

you pay me no mind

even though you are all I can think about

show me who you really are

so I can stop this idol worship

and return my heart to its former state of hollowness

where butterfly wings fail to flutter

and no hope grows

 

 

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