I love the things you say to me...
As much as the things you do for me...
I love how...You discovered the me...
No man had ever known before...
The one I protected, buried in a frost
lined and rimed box, packed on ice and put away
in my girlhood...Far, far away on the back
corner of a very cold, dark shelf in my mind...
I never expected to see that me, again...
The eleven year old girl that planted the sign
that read, Do Not Disturb...Do Not Wake the Dead...
Meant what she said...When she ripped out her heart,
and vowed never to fall in love...As love was an illusion...
Love was an unblemished spot on your face
waiting to become a black and blue bruise...
Love was a concussion...Love was suicide...
Obviously a self annihilation of the soul and body...
Love caused you to get beat and almost killed...
Love was murder...But, beyond that...
Love did not exist...It was a lie...
Men told and women believed...
Already at eleven, I had affirmed...
Nothing existed betwixt and between
adult males and females, beyond lust and contracts...
So, ripping out my heart seemed like a mercy killing to me...
I vowed I would love, yet never fall in love...When I grew up...
Men would be a means to an end to me...Not the be all, end all...
It was enough for the men in my life to own the body,
if not to know the woman, within...The hidden one...
The one that died before she was born...Written
out of the script, by a cynical eleven year old girlchild...
Raised just this side of hell, in the shell shocked trenches
of an honest to god, American Family Gothic story...
It was enough for me to know, though a man
might bruise me, use me...He could never hurt me...
As I was already dead on arrival...Long gone...
The lights were on, but the heart wasn't beating...
Fast forward to you, gatecrasher...
You whom knew what you wanted
and went straight for it...The core
of the ice queen...The woman
the little girl had aborted...
You skipped through my head,
danced through and around my soul...
Released my child murdered heart from it's secret box...
And a glacier thawed, melted and puddled...
Or perhaps, in her girlchild's cynical wisdom...
The child in me, never really killed the woman...
She put the woman on ice, to save her, for you...
The best of her, for her very own be all, end all man...
~*~
La-dee-dah and ooh-la-la...
You've got me singing love songs
and tra-la-la and it had to be youuuuuuu...
But, off I must skip...I've just been informed my writing
session I must nip in the bud...Mini-me is hungry...
And when is dinner going to be ready?
So off to the kitchen I trip...
Thoughts of you wrapped
round my head in a corona
of pink cotton candy moments...