Here’s for the meanings and the seemings,
The words we’ve been breathing, though they are concealing,
We’re never hidden behind steal, or a solid wall of bricks.
And we’re shamed, peeking out of ‘the cupboard,’ hiding like the Indian did from a childhood book.
We move through our thoughts, the glances of others who don’t understand —
What it means to remain hidden.
They’re all out there with their sunglasses and dreamy looks,
In a world finding love, come together — some love separates.
And I haven’t spent the days before Valentine’s Day dreaming,
I don’t need a man to give me flowers or chocolates.
I don’t need more demands and inferences of combinations dialled,
Short and electric, but fizzles and drizzles, as the rain pours outside.
Dividing our time between sleeping and daylight,
And the sun keeps on rising;
I keep on imprivising all the things I’m construing,
In a mind filled with despising a guy who I left.
Who made me know what it hurts like to feel neglect,
After he’s gone on, but still calling — I wish he would stop.
That I could forget all about these “tygers” and their wants.
I’m not happy nor comfortable, unless they get their cut, pieces of my being;
They’re dividing me among each other, taking the best cuts and leaving the scraps.
And outside is a puppy and I want to hold her, because she doesn’t need much —
Only to eat, walk, cuddle, play, and go wee.
She needs her nails clipped and her teeth brushed sometimes.
I’m a woman begging everyday of her life for things I’m uninspired to give,
If you won’t even attempt to do better, make it as important as a ‘business deal.’
I’m not above you or below you you dirty-thirty-something.
I’m just looking for meaning among people who are loyal.
I’m caught in my dreams, betwixt the real and the “real” in this Wonderland.
And if we look through the ‘looking glass’ we only see people in poverty,
Who are thinking only of eating and surviving.
Loving doesn’t matter much when you are looking for fresh water,
When you’re sickly and dying — or does it matter most?
But here, won’t you hear me —
In our first- world of problems —
I’m trying! I’m trying — but it’s never enough.
You dragons eat your steaks and leave me with nothing but my dry bones.
You ravish a ‘paper-bag princess’ and leave her without a stitch;
Clothes that cover her heart.
And you suck her organs dry of blood and all matter,
You leave a her exposed for the vultures to grasp at,
You break open a bottle of liquor and the whole room explodes,
Covered in champagne and the bubbles make you choke.
Sifting through closets, cover up my exposed heart,
I don’t want to reveal myself but in the “real” world I must.
Because if your broken your fixable and can be put back together,
A mirror that’s shattered and eternally busted.
And these words may make little sense but that’s what you call — prose poetry,
Of a girl, who’s a woman, who’s a child, who’s lured by the promises,
Of a blackness so bleak no one can see in front of their face,
Because in the darkest depths, the light shines brightest.
Arise and save yourself,
Think of the words to describe your freedom desired —
Taylor Swift wrote it well: ” It’s too late for you and your white horse to catch me now.”
©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.