dear soccerdad,

May 26, 2010 at 1:35 am (Uncategorized)

some clarification and closure
from yours truly…
i preferred the
five scotches-in
swaying dart thrower
to the
chicken shit
“nicest guy you’ve ever known”
you turned out to be.
and kisses,

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Girl to girl

May 21, 2010 at 11:26 pm (Uncategorized)

I write for me,
and not for you,
just to make that clear.
Your reaction
matters not,
no wince, no laugh, no tear.
So just in case
your green critique
aimed to cut me through,
just save your breath,
remember this,
I write for me,
not you.

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May 5, 2010 at 10:41 pm (Uncategorized)

Knocking on  your door,
I hear you tell me to come in,
but I let you get up anyway.

There are keys to drop off,
armor to retrieve.
You ask if I want to hit you,
kick you in the stones
and I say no, but you close
your eyes, and flinch,
as if you really believe that I will,
or really believe that
you deserve it.
‘Can’t help how you feel,’
I say,
because it’s true;
I would know,
your shoes are familiar.
Sunday was your terrible day
according to Shower You.
When I inquired, you played dumb.
Was it a slip of the Freudian kind,
or a message to me?
Doesn’t matter now, but I wonder.
I believe the words that ultimately emerged,
without analysis or twisting.
A testament to trust.
An odd comfort
that was hard to find at times,
but at that moment, existed without question.
So maybe we’re a little more
track fourteen than seven,
more ‘grab a beer’ than ‘hold my earrings’
but in the end,
what we have
matters more
than what we don’t.
Thank you
for giving me hope that
one day I will have
hope again.
For helping me remember
that armor is removable.

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