Stomach in knots
Hard to know what you're
really going to do
Unlike me, you're the master
of poker
and feigned indifference
Everyone knows my hand
and that my heart is always
on my sleeve
Sometimes I can't tell
if you really love me
Yet, here you are
ready to defend me
against the one
that years ago threw my heart
into the desert sand, willing it
to die
Surprised that the burning sun
gave me renewed life
Now he's just
wounded my womanly pride
trying to steal from me
yet again, my identity,
Threatening the love
my children have for me
he prefers me
in a state
of invalidation
His jealousy, his anger
that I found myself
and that you acutally see me
knowing that I don't need you
I simply want you
kills him
Yet what I sense in you
frightens me
because in his gamble to wound me
he attacked you, knives in your back
gun under the table
your ego suffers
How far will you go
to punish he, who is no one's
rival?
You write such sad things for someone who seems so happy. I don't know how you and Jeff do it. He's brought me to tears with some of his stuff then come online laughing because it elicited the response he was 'looking for'. Still, nice work.
ReplyDeleteThank you! I was told since I was a child that I either walked around looking pissed off or unbearable sad. The funny thing was, I didn't feel either. I was happily lost in my own head. It obviously didn't reflect to the outer self!
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