Tuesday, 20 December 2016

Musings about life:

You must think me young, reckless, impulsive,
(how flattering :))
To think I would allow you to charge into me,
Like a bull at a gate,
You need to be taught a thing or two, young man!

Your desires are overwhelming,
You young whipper snappers,
Need to be taught about delayed gratification;
It's nice to have things bubbling away on the back burner,
You clearly have no idea what you are getting yourself into,
Yet you proceed like a bull in a china shop anyway,
If I give into you, you get what you want and then leave,
I like you far too much to allow that to happen,
How can you not see it?
Don't you see?

He keeps calling me "Miss,"
And I say, that's "Ms to you!"
Pulling rank & asserting my authority was going to be fun,
Lucky he doesn't know he melts me every single time,
When was the last time anyone had called me Miss?

He had a full throttle, high octane, need for speed libido,
She had a broken axle, four flats & burnt out electrical system,
That made her stall,
Could he find her pitstop and get to work?

He was champing at the bit,
So I held the reigns underneath,
Nuzzled his nose,
And brushing my hand down his lustrous flank said:
"Hey there, whoa boy, you haven't even made it to second round interviews yet!"
As I looked at him the whites of his eyes gradually disappeared and he looked away,
- for now anyway.

I imagine he would pop the stuffing right out of me,
Then find all of my bits, including my eyeballs,
Sew them back into place,
And then proceed to knock them all out again.

I have my own secret smile when I think of him,
It's not because of the now but because of what could be.

I wake up at about three,
When the sun taps on the Western wall;
Sleepy eyes seduced by the lengthening shadows,
Is he awake?
We worship the moon.

Her libido arrived at the destination before she did,
Knocking down the weak in its path like dominos,
And he somehow seemed to know.

"Don't introduce yourself to me and hold a pose nearby,
If you don't want to be written into my poetry & prose!"
She said with haughty arrogance

His attention washes over me like a floodwater,
Starting at the top and working its way down,
Knocking me over onto my back,
Which is exactly where he wants me.

He thinks I said no because I don't care for him,
But little does he know - the exact opposite is true,
I can see how his young life would unfold if attached to mine,
His youth, his vulnerability, his urgency in love,
So easily taken advantage of,
Crueler woman may live, but not I,
I protect and love has many faces.

I don't know how players & womanisers find my number,
But they do!
Maybe it's the writerly aspect,
It's hard to sort the wheat from the chaffe,
But my virginity and light, unafflicted heart remain intact.

The young boys that the world calls men,
I see them - I met one,
(I looked at him twice because he had your name, my love)
How they stand at the edge of the world expectantly,
They have such passion in their eyes,
Waiting for the world to deliver their grand adventure,
- their epic love story,
He and the others that are older than him,
They might say that I'm stuck-up, selfish, cold, hard-to-know,
But you & I know the real reason I'm like that,
Only you know,
Only you.

When I next speak with my love,
He will make promises that he just can't keep,
And I will make him believe that he's just about to have his way with me again,
Neither of us is true.

Under his word spell,
I became beautiful again,
But summer leaves brown.

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