A Labyrinth

There is still this warring hope,
that perhaps the reason I am still alone,
there is still emptiness in my world,
is because you are meant to fill it.

Over a decade ago,
I sat down and wrote,
in a pink book with a lock that my brother broke,
about your charming smile.

We grew,
we grow,
apart.
Not that we were ever close.

Your innocence melted into a hard rock,
an exploding star,
dangerous to wish upon,
and I was disenchanted.

But when I send suitors away,
I notice your thumbs impression,
and hope that you’ll come fill the dent,
that a boyish version of you made,
when you flashed me a smile,
in a primary school history lesson.

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I wanted you to see where I live,
to be proud of me.
I wanted you to see,
despite the fact that,
I call you when I cry,
most of the time,
I am managing just fine.

But you let me down,
twisted my smile into a frown.
I should have expected it,
coddling, swaddling is not your style,
and your selfishness is only thinly veiled in mine.

I don’t want to talk anymore today,
I am no longer excited to see your face.

Gosh, all I wanted was for you to see,
to recognize,
that you really hurt me this time.
I don’t want to talk anymore,
click,
goodbye.

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Yin and Yang.
A drop of me in you,
and you in me,
this is the way is has to be.
Pregnant,
curves hooked on one another,
complementary.
But if you wont let,
me in a spec,
then we don’t belong together.

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This is an ode to the ones that go down smooth,
and make me dizzy,
fizzy,
trippy.

This is an ode to the ones that come back up acidic,
in my throat,
and leave me,
feeling kicked in the head,
eyes sensitive to light,
that pull the joy out of music,
every noise a curse.

This is an ode to the boys,
that wander and knock things down in their path,
willfully ignorant to the drunken damage they cause,
slurring their speech,
and swinging from the ceiling.

An ode to those who swing from mood to mood,
caring then cruel,
who take what they want,
but then change their mind,
and take something else.

This is an ode to the ones with hands so strong,
so soft,
so full,
that they are always dropping someone.

An ode to the ones that wink so much it looks like a twitch,
who will do anything to satisfy their every itch,
even when it makes others bleed.

This is an ode to the ones I will steer clear of,
that I will no longer revere,
an ode to knowing there is something,
someone better.

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He is a proper Arthurian knight,
armed for a fight,
his smile hidden behind,
an iron helmet.

Can she make you laugh?
To hear the happy echo under the tin?

Which wizard has your heart?

Could the fair lady disarm you?
Make you shred,
every thread,
of chain mail?
To find something past the steal,
warm to the feel,
and vulnerable,

underneath?

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Sparks used to fly from his mouth,
and his flesh glowed a neon green,
but I killed him,
I killed the raging beast.
He lies dead between us,
all thats left,
is a rotting carcass,
oozing deceased tension,
bones cracked,
taut muscles forced to relax.
I killed him,
I killed that raging beast.
And if that one eyed cyclops blinks,
if his lid so much as flutters in the winds,
I will jump up and stab him.
He will not rise again;
anti-christ.
There will not be a raging beast between us.
I will strike him dead.
I will kill him.

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Facebook allows me,
to peak into intimate moments,
that belong to people that are only peripheral in my life.
And I let my jealousy get the best of me,
as I watch them get married,
and grow families.

Years younger than me and she’s pregnant!

I suffer alone,
feeling unaccomplished,
and there she is in postpartum bliss with her gorgeous infant.

I wonder if anybody bothers to stalk me,
jealous of my still single life.
I can go out whenever I feel like it.
Or at least when I can afford to.

Sometimes, I contemplate,
taking a break,
from the Facebook prying madness,
but I can’t seem to do it for more than a day.
I obsessively return to see who got married, broke up, gave birth.

The funny thing is,
is that its not anyone I care to look after or remember.
Those who I hold dear,
I already know their laughs and tears,
before I sign on.
And if I read it first on their wall,
well I will frantically call,
and be offended,
but then anyways offer heartfelt congratulations,
or my advice on how to get hearts mended.

It is a tool,
Facebook,
a way to manage my calendar,
publicize that I need a job, an apartment, a boyfriend,
well maybe the last one should be more private,
but Facebook has settings for that!
I only wish that in this social sea,
Facebook would not only protect my privacy,
but also guard me from my jealousy.

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