A love sonnet

Someday the world will see our love as such
And understand the beauty that we share
No whispering (afraid to speak too much!)
No more denying what is plainly there
We know the feelings deep within our hearts
And seek out other hearts who beat the same
Such agony, such doubt! When first we start
Alone, we dare not even use love’s name.
We reach out — only subtle hints we leave.
We speak in riddles, deftly-chosen words
Which give a sign to those who would receive
Then echo back, with recognition heard.
Such little choice: to love in secrecy,
Or brand ourselves as monsters openly…

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How do you feel? (I’m lonely…)

there’s a feeling I get
sometimes
searching my mind
for the song to express it
and coming up with empty measures

there’s a feeling I get
sometimes
grasping at words
for analogy to convey it
but it’s almost like… I got nothin’

there’s a feeling I get
sometimes
not quite “longing”
not quite “almost”
not quite “what if”
not quite “what was”

a feeling of “not quite”

where the need to express
is overabundant
and the means to express
is sorely lacking

and this feeling
is made up of the rift
between the two

I still somehow believe
that one day
I will find the song
the lyric reference
and the melody
the music that means this thing

this movement in my heart
this feeling I get

sometimes

“Hugs and kisses, I’m always right there if you need to talk!”

isolation made more poigniant
your “hug” is just dots on this display
it is not arms around me
it is not warmth at my side
it is not breasts pressed tight against my own

you mean well
i know you mean well
but you wound with your well-wishes
good intent betrayed
by the breeze blowing cold across my back
by the pillow clutched in my almost-empty arms
by my heart beating slowly to its sad and solitary song

when you ask if i want to talk to you about it
the answer is yes
but not to the question you really mean

i want to TALK
to YOU

you are not a video screen
you are not a telephone
tapping on computer keys
makes a very different sound from speech
and compressing the vibrations from my throat and lips
to translate into digital bits
beamed out and back again to the little box beside your ear
cannot compare to the full sensory fidelity
of my voice muffled against your tear-wet shoulder

understand, then, if i seem angry
when you offer
yet again
the same shallow substitutes
which cannot
will never
satisfy my needs

understand
that i will not comprimise
that i will have what i need
or nothing at all

understand
and do not scold me
for knowing what i want
standing firm and unwilling
to settle for less

if you cannot offer what i ask
so be it
you certainly have no obligation
to care for me
but if you don’t fulfill those needs
then i will suffer through this

alone

as i so often do

Happy S.A.D. (Singles’ Awareness Day, February 14)

hold me
spoon me
you can be the big one
if you want

slap my face
harder
let me be your good girl

shove my head
closer to your cunt
my hair is the handle
make yourself come
with my tongue
and my lips
here for you to use

fill me with your hand
or your cock
still yours
whether you wear it or not

kiss me sweetly
kiss me rough
it doesn’t matter

since it’s only ever make-believe
since it’s only wishes and longing
since it’s only me

alone

single

and fucked (except not)

I hear the doorbell ring and suddenly the panic takes me

I need to write.
I want to write.

But I’m balancing that need
That desire
Against my physical exhaustion
Against my minimal food intake today
Against the enormous effort that it takes
To remain outwardly calm
While the sounds from the next room
Fill me with
Irrational
Insistent
Immense

PANIC.

No, it’s not a “logical” connection.
No, I can’t explain why those sounds affect me as they do.
No, it’s not just me finding something to complain about.

I have worked over many years
Learned very carefully
Through practice
Mistakes
Refinement of technique
To appear relaxed
And pleasant
And friendly

Instead of screaming as loudly as my lungs allow
Smashing any solid object within reach
Against any other object in my swing
Stomping and smashing
Making noise and breaking things
All in a feeble and ever-failed attempt
To demonstrate to others —
But no, not a demonstration —
It’s an attempt to harm others
In a fashion that they can comprehend
To a degree equivalent
To the harm they inflict on me.

I have learned to be mute
I have learned to accept harm
I have learned to do nothing in retaliation
I have learned to turn inward and die

And I am praised for my “success” far too often
Told that I am “strong”
That I am “brave”
That I have “accomplished so much”

How is it
That so many seem to envy
This so-called “skill”
Of saying nothing
Doing nothing
Lying on the ground after being driven there again
And most of all for my friendly smile
And calm, even voice
As I am kicked again and again and again?

You value self-restraint
You value compliance
You value non-violence and avoiding confrontation
And I have learned these things you so value

But you never taught me when to stop holding back
You never taught me how to say, “Fuck no, and fuck you!”
You never taught me how to knock a motherfucker out when they come at me wrong
Or to do anything but whimper, turn, and run or better yet, stay and take it with a smile

So I have learned nothing of value at all

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