I'm learning not to look over my shoulder.
and maybe I'll no longer have that dream.
That dream, where I wake up and
You stand at the end of my bed:
With a rifle,
With a baseball bat,
nothing but your hands.
Just because I (will be) am (was) your wife
does not give you the right to enter (me).
The sky is dry, the room is dry
The bed is dry, I am dry.
Regardless, just because you (think you) own me:
it is still rape, when you try to enter my (w)hole.
That is not my soul on your hands, but my blood.
I just close my eyes and
tunnel into that part of me that you can never get to.
Besides, I know this will be over very quickly.
Why do you look for me between my legs?
I am not there.
If you want to find me,
look up at the Starry Night,
walk with me in the Garden of Earthly Delights.
Help me collect Stones from a River.
Join with me, as I perform the Rite of Spring,
or let us play in the Leaves of Summer.
Let's dance among the Soot and Stars,
as we look for the Reptile among the Wasteland.
We can chase the Butterflyz after the Lightening Crashes.
We will survive Little Earthquakes,
as you look into my Green Eyes, as I tell you You're not Alone.
Or perhaps I am in A Room of One's Own
pouring over Maps or even drawing my own Map of the World.
You may find me reading King Lear on the Red Carpets
under the Blue Dining Table in the Red Studio.
But you claim I have a Heart of Darkness
So you shoot the Arrow of God at me
as I try to explain that Things Fall Apart.
I made The Promise to always
sing to you a lovesong, but now
that feels like the Dream of a Ridiculous Man.
I thought you were Some Kind of Wonderful and
I wanted to Praise You.
But now I know that was a Terrible lie and
all I feel is Fear as
I am Waiting for the Barbarians.
You make me wish for the Time Before Man.
I feel like a Raw Youth,
and I know that I can be Cruel but I am not The Demons.
All I am looking for is What I loved
among the Crazed and Midnight's Children.
I listen to the Other Voices, Other Rooms and
pray you quit playing these Wicked Games
and just Say Good-bye.
You called me a whore if I wanted it (which was rare).
Worse if I didn't (which was often).
Words of pleasure rarely spoken between us (in the bedroom).
But now I decide:
Whom to spread for
When to spread
Where to spread
How wide to spread
How many to spread for.
And I discover what you were looking for (myself).
And I no longer look to see if you watch me squirm with a pleasure
that you never provided (anyone).
You no longer exist (for me) on me.