145675384-640x640When you’re a writer people tend to think

you’re writing about them

that’s if they are arrogant or believe you must feel that way 

so often I am not writing about the person who believes I am

so often I want to write that as a preface before the poem

this is not about you / that ship sailed / that ship never was

securely moored or even existed

sometimes

or should I say, just once

it was about you

I did want you to know

just as I couldn’t bring myself to say it face to face

or sound the words out loud for fear

what is spoken is then real

I didn’t think of myself as a coward, where emotions were concerned

yet found myself floundering and blushing in your presence

like a school child again

perhaps it is because from the outset, you were impossible

as if I had stuffed all my wishes into a jar and set it to sea

and you had returned in the jar, stepping out and holding out your hand

I didn’t know if you liked women, if you liked me and my kind

there’s a die-hard rule among girls who like girls

don’t date bi-curious, don’t let yourself get broken

don’t show your cards until it’s patently obvious

but you’re not an obvious kind of person and you weren’t going

to show me anything until I took the plunge

you said i’d get bored but it’s the other way around

you stay like migrating butterflies, only a short time

before going on with your pilgrimage

and those who want more of you

watch the skies with only memories

I admit I am a simple woman emotionally, who has

a heart easily penetrated by the feeling of loss

but it is time for us both to change

you to trust, me to let go and not need

forever as a promise

it was your mystery from the outset

the little shape of you and your deep voice

wound me up into knots,  got me crazy

a tiny dancer on the fringe of my consciousness

I held back because it terrified me

those kinds of feelings don’t come around often

I keep myself in check and don’t pursue

I wait for them to come to me, it’s safer

but you wouldn’t do that, it’s not your style, I found myself

walking in your direction, wobbly on my feet

from the taste of nerves

for girls like you don’t exist

they are carved out of yearning

I made you with my thoughts

for if I could have said everything I searched for

and put it into a woman

she would have been you

except surely I was imagining it

when I saw you look at me in a way

usually meant for other times

surely what I felt, was not reciprocated

for emotions aren’t psychic are they?

could you hear what I felt, as clearly as if I had

spoken it aloud? Could you tell by the burning

in my eyes, the wetness of my mouth?

As I lay in bed at night I would try to unpick

the moves we made around each other

trying to guage what was real and imaginary

how could I reveal my heart if there was a chance

you’d repulse me and i’d be wrong?

i’ve never been the kind of woman to put myself out there

take those kinds of chances

it’s not a lack of courage

I’m simply not going to walk into rejection

if you know its taste you don’t go searching

but as with all emotions, they either die from neglect

or swell in intensity

I could not sleep, I lost my appetite

searching for you in the folds of day

until it was impossible not to say

even if you turned and laughed

patted me on the cheek and said

I feel sorry for you

but we who have lived in this world a while

can hear beneath the arch and curl

if we really listen

those hidden things people do not tell

and I thought I saw

in the corners of your motion

something stir

so if you read this; yes it is about you

and if you wonder; yes I do

and if you call for me; I will come

to the summit where people who are strangers and known

stand and expose themselves to

the terror and beauty of

their desire

21 Replies to “The terror & beauty”

  1. Wow! I cannot but hope she reads and finds what she has been waiting to hear.

    Reading the preface, I couldn’t help thinking of a song by Carly Simon.

  2. We always hope that the ones we Need will see what we have written. Unfortunately, it is often that they will assume that it’s not, could not possibly be, for them.

    Hard as it is, painful as knowing may be, asking is the only way. Unrequited maybe is blade embedded in the heart, quietly killing without outward mark.

    From the heart of a poet who specializes in breaking themselves

  3. I adore you. Can I stand next to you as a demi-poet who specializes in half-breaking herself?
    You are right, unrequited is horror, but doing nothing is death. You taught me that friend. Life goes by fast.
    Better someone thinks it’s not for them than a grandiose egomaniac assumes it is I suppose :0 Poetry is for everyone and no-one.

  4. I did indeed, thank you for thinking of me! I’m going to write something brand new for it 🙂 xxxx

  5. Of course you may stand next to me. You are my friend.
    And the grandiose egomaniac will always think it’s for them ;), but some poems are for everyone and for someone. I tag those, so that my muse will know

  6. I have favorites of yours… and I am sure you know which ones… but, this one is now on the list. Especially because of these lines:

    “As I lay in bed at night I would try to unpick

    the moves we made around each other

    trying to guage what was real and imaginary

    how could I reveal my heart if there was a chance

    you’d repulse me and i’d be wrong?

    i’ve never been the kind of woman to put myself out there

    take those kinds of chances

    it’s not a lack of courage

    I’m simply not going to walk into rejection

    if you know its taste you don’t go searching

    but as with all emotions, they either die from neglect

    or swell in intensity

    I could not sleep, I lost my appetite

    searching for you in the folds of day

    until it was impossible not to say

    even if you turned and laughed

    patted me on the cheek and said

    I feel sorry for you

    but we who have lived in this world a while

    can hear beneath the arch and curl

    if we really listen

    those hidden things people do not tell

    and I thought I saw

    in the corners of your motion

    something stir

    so if you read this; yes it is about you

    and if you wonder; yes I do

    and if you call for me; I will come

    to the summit where people who are strangers and known

    stand and expose themselves to

    the terror and beauty of

    their desire”

    Lately, you’re pushing out such great gems, unmistakably so. This one is no different.

  7. Oh! Oh my heart!! I simply adore this. It’s so perfectly beautiful.
    Favorite lines:
    “a heart easily penetrated by the feeling of loss” (ohmygod Yes!!)
    “I made you with my thoughts” (oh so much in this, where to start?)

  8. You capture so well the tentative terror and beauty of the approach to lesbian love, but, you know, as a heterosexual male I can identify with much of this

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