A pattern I’ve noticed lately with people having “crushes” on me and discussing potential relationships.
relationships past, yet none of them
are “The One.” Two local, two long-distance;
at least I got some experience. But I don’t want
experience, I want, no,
Yet most I interact with just flirt, think I’m cute, a stud, this wonderful person
they seem to put on a pedestal.
What’s the point of desire if
I’m just a rolling stone? Why would anyone put up with
an anxious person with an old-fashioned coping mechanism?
Do you honestly want a life-long relationship with a so-called sexy stud
who’s watching his life crash and burn in slow motion, and
out of desperation, poorly attempts to
stop the crash before it causes more damage?
Would you want to hold him when he
grieves for his long-gone father
death cheated him out of? Would you be there for him
when the two women closest to him leave this world?
Would you give him a family when his is long-gone?
Would you grieve with him?
Die with him?
This is why I resist
are two-way streets and are multidimensional
Yet no one understands this, because
they don’t think with their brains.
A sonnet I wrote for my boyfriend for our two-month anniversary. It’s been a while since I’ve written one of these, so hopefully this makes some sense and follows the form.
There is a howl that resonates the air –
not deep and prideful – that is not my wolf.
A friendly call belongs to him I care
about – the gentle soul that is your wealth.
We nuzzle muzzles – locking lips as we
exchange our breaths. Alone, his presence soothes
me – pulsing heartbeats calm the torrent sea
of my disquiet mind – it is defused.
Our new, unnatural courtship stuck for two
endearing, lovely months – and both of us
are new to this – a concept we pursued
despite us keeping mateship in a hush.
But this wolf cares for his peculiar pack –
no matter what, he keeps us all intact.
I think about him night and day, wondering
what will happen to us if we were
together. My mom seems to like him, his
parents seem to like me. Would that be
ok then? Or is this just a phase?
Some nights I would feel so alone,
abandoned, wishing he was in bed
with me and I in his arms,
wishing he was here with me right now,
reminding me I’m not alone. Yet I
still feel this way because it’s true, even if
I’m around him frequently. Tears come
making me human and not
a real man when
loneliness enters my mind. I
continuously romanticize and sing
future together, two
goofballs sharing all
who we are and all
that we love, all
our vices and virtues,
going against the grain with our
alone. Some would be
ok with us, some wouldn’t
care about us, some would
hate us. At least we would
find solace in a community of
Out of panic I
ask him if he shares these
deep, longing passions with me.
He didn’t say.
A heartbreaking rejection
drives one to write dark poems
that are sometimes complaining –
just be done with it!