Image for the poem give sorrow a woman

give sorrow a woman's name

it’s the kind of hurt that washes down with tears.
but I never learned to cry.

that’s why tough guys don’t fall in love. her face is part of the
sickness in your belly & you can’t drink it away. & her kiss, so
sweet you could die from it. when a woman says ‘I love you,’
she’s saying ‘I will hurt you.’ little by little. & then all at once.

she met me for cocktails at the Chelsea hotel & I spilled my
guts about how she dragged me thru backstreets paved with
broken glass. her sarcasm hit me right between the eyes: ‘are
you so f*ckin stupid you think you’re the only one that hurts?’

then she goes on about how I got mean & slapped her around
a little too hard, a little too often. sure, like I never had a reason.
take the night she went to the library wearing the fishnet
stockings & the pearls I bought her, then came home without
the stockings.

there’s a lonely place that echoes the whispers of the rain
& a blue-eyed crooner sings a lovesong’s sad refrain: it’s the
corridor of my last dream & she danced me to the end of it.

‘it’s funny,’ she says. ‘there are so many things that I’m unsure
of, except that I loved you.’

so I will have another drink & write out the sadness
in my heart, recherché & melancholic,
like the naked lines in bad poetry…

(Artist unknown)

Written by JohnFeddeler
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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