deepundergroundpoetry.com
women [in love]
They came in different
sizes shapes types variety
read Vogue
used maybelline
drank sherry
pissed while humming
I don't want to say good bye
had their hair curled
straight blonde short silken
wore their hearts on their sleeves
or carried it in small brown bags
like doughnuts
that reminded me of lunatic one-day-wonders
who crossed streets in haste
with their
medals trophies curios achievements
staring from the grime of their clothes
[at times on wheel chairs]
These women
[always a handful]
had beautiful lips
red purple pink bruised stained
full chaffed or simply painted gaudy
to reach a mix of
turnon and putoff
They had
shells bubbles rabbit holes plan B's rooms asylums
escape routes demons jails babies abortions
stretch marks broken ribs history
and baggage [yes that too]
loved to spread their legs
[I loved to snuggle there, point of origin]
butter and may be cheese
mostly nutella or marmalaide
sometimes nuisances rumours
or old newspaper issues so that
the haircolour did not smudge the
white marble floor
dammit always something
fell for me cos'
some preferred me
a couple liked my musk post making love
others loved my voice post crying
while a few wanted to cry looking at my angelic face
and for some it was my hairy chest
but mostly because I
smelt looked tasted acted
no diferent than a
doormat victim parenthesis
They told me I was
affectionate caring warm mellow sensitive understanding
a good fuck sexy accomodating
Most liked my taste in cinema and music
my sketches or poems or the way
I smiled in my sleep[no consensus there]
but they all agreed on one thing
that I was pretty harmless
That's right
I was a cub that the lionesses loved to play with
[while the males fought and fucked fiercely]
once the storm got over and
the skies cleared up
they all went back to their own pride
It took me three days to
throw crush burn it all
the cards and letters with
lipstick smears smileys textspeak
gifts and framed photographs with farewell messages
written in cursive feminine slants [mostly glitter]
Today is the fifth day
I have been constantly mumbling for an aneurysm
or may be another scarred wounded lost trapped goddess
cause empty is bluesy
be it the bottle bed or bedroom
even shrines and altars[I speak from experience]
As I write this line I don't much like
you know the first idea[that was a half-truth anyway]
Published 8th Jun 2012
| Edited 9th Jun 2012
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