Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the tag “relationships”

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.”

 

 

 

 

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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.

Memory Trace

I’m certain that neither one of us

know the other

and what I did know of you

I have most likely forgotten

I can’t recall the way you kissed

or what your hands felt like upon my skin

or whether I asked you to dance

or you asked me

it was so long ago

25 years give or take

and now we are both

nearly totally different people

after scars have formed on our hearts

so what are we to do

do we go our separate ways

once again

or do we try to recall

what brought us together in the first place

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

The Hex that is You

smoke

 

you’re all just smoke and mirrors

and I choke in your presence

fearing you’re

a mere reflection of the worst parts of me

and that

maybe

I’ve conjured you into being

like some sort of voodoo priestess

I have drawn you to me

by being broken and bent

and you

seeing all the worst in me

know what I will do for love

or that thing

you disguise as love

dress it up

teach it to speak more better

(the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain)

take it out on parade

regardless

it never fails to be what it is

a sick, twisted display of your narcissism

 

Split Lips

the salt from my tears stings the cut on my lip

I push my tongue against it to feel the sting again

drag my teeth across it

taste the coppery tang from the blood

my mouth waters and I turn my head and spit

I wonder what brought me to this point in my life

it’s not the first time

but it’s definitely the last time

you’ll lay your hands on me motherfucker

so I commit it to memory

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Lies Within Us

What is the flaw within us

that doesn’t believe we are good enough

for good love

Why is it easier to accept

the love

which isn’t really love

but merely sickness masquerading

We give them the benefit of the doubt

because we believe

we can see the possibilities inside them

of which there are none

and even if there were potential

it’s not up to us to nurture them

Brother of mine

do not make the same mistakes I have made

it will not get better

but only worse every time

until it will culminate

into something she can’t take back

Run away from her little brother

as fast as you can

as far as you can

It may be lonely for awhile

but not as lonely as a tomb

 

 

 

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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