Poem: Free Verse – “The Writings On The Wall Reveal You” #amwriting #poetry #relationships 


http://www.badjocks.com

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Am I real?

When you look at me,

Do you see me for me?

Do you care what you see?

I’ve only questions,

While you play your cards close.

I’m not going to cheat,

Peer at your hand because —

I’m afraid what I’ll see.

Such truths, I don’t want to gaze upon —

Unfaithfulness,

Only physicality, sexuality;

No emotion or affection,

No conversation in person,

No Voice stroking voice.

—–

Hands speak with our words,

Eyes glint and reveal,

Secrets you’d rather hide,

With sunglasses.

Staring at your hand,

Trying to beat my cards.

Poker face silent, emotionless;

All bets are off.

Time to show me your cards,

What the river dealt you —

Matters not; but for now,

Play how you like.

Fold if you’re scared,

Of falling into deep,

Of feeling emotion.

Your heart picking-up,

Thumping a beat.

——

But, perhaps, I’m a woman for fodder,

For a lonely night at home.

Perhaps, I’m not pretty enough,

Not thin enough for you.

Maybe, you know I’ll ask questions?

Questions you have trouble answering.

Maybe, you know —

I’ll turn the wanderer in your soul home,

And welcome you in my arms.

Maybe you’re not ready,

Perhaps, your only an ass.

A nice way of saying,

Other words I want to shout.

Perhaps, I’m only a date —

And one night.

Is this how you treat women?

I’m too strong for your tricks.

——-

You may forget my face,

My name, my body.

You may let me do the walk of shame,

Thinking I’m fooled by you,

The man I liked all along;

You may believe —

Finally, you wore me down.

And now I’m flattened,

Nothing left to sculpt,

Nothing left to shatter.

Smithereens, glass embedded.

You may have led me astray,

Made me consider:

I no longer think,

Some guys are good,

And some guys do care.

——

But when I chose you,

Maybe I didn’t realize,

I was choosing all wrong.

Maybe, I should’ve gazed above me —

Seen the ‘writings on the wall.’

Seen the woman in her glory,

Waiting for her own life,

On wings to rise and fly;

From your lies and tricks;

You didn’t shatter me,

I saw all the writings,

Every word on that damn wall,

I know all your horrific secrets;

And I read them all.

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Fiction/Poem: Prose Poetry – “Screened in Darkness” #introtopoetry #fiction #prosepoetry 


The Poetry 101 prompt is a screen of any kind using enjambment. I’m also incorporating a word from The Daily Post, Darkness.

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http://www.pinterest.com

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Behind the screen I keep myself veiled, a Japanese screen with paper too thin and I keep on wondering if he’ll look, wishing Luke wouldn’t because I know I’ll be doing the walk of shame back home. And I don’t know why but I’m so ashamed, the wine went to my head last night; I knew better. Luke was attractive, he was kind; for a moment I thought he cared more about me than a few statistics and few words; but this morning, Luke left his house empty but for his cleaning lady and cook who made me crepes and said, “You need to get ready to go home. Mr. Luke doesn’t like his lady friends to be at his home if he decides to drop by at lunch to take the dog out for a run especially.” I didn’t understand why Luke was screening me, why I awoke from euphoria to a cold empty bed; the hand stroking my cheek in the night wanted only one thing, and didn’t want it from me again though Luke and I had been friends before. There was no text message, no note, and I wondered if I would see Luke again. No doubt, he’d try to avoid my favourite hangouts from now on, he knew most of them. But I didn’t get why I felt so exposed that morning getting dressed. We’d been naked all night but when I woke up and Luke saw me; I felt judged. Judged by the bite marks, the bruising, my careful movements. Luke gazed at me grinning, when I hid behind that Japanese screen to dress after my shower. “It’s no use to hide behind the screen Katie. I can see right through it in the morning light. Come back to bed . . .” So back to Luke I went though sorely overused, and when I fell asleep he was gone and I was alone; Luke’s pillow was cold. I wish I’d screened him better, I wish it was him who was exposed and not me. He hides all his secrets in the dark, he thrives in its opaqueness. The darkness lets him treat women how he does, another notch in a metaphorical bedpost. Walking home, I felt empty, caught in Luke’s darkness, as if I had wasted so much time and conversation, in the end only to be screened, told I wasn’t right for the position. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.