sickly sweet caricature of loveness
arent i your lady charles bukowski muse
your in-between love that you reminisce about
when the rain is louder than your evening news
our coffee table magazine type of love
the one-that-got-away type of story
you will speak it out when the champagne goes in
you won't tell them it was you who let go of me
no, i will rest only in your poems
bare me naked for the critic's fancy
does he like the way you wrote my breasts, love of mine?
do his loins tighten because of your imagery?
you will run out of metaphors to cage me in someday
what will you do then babe?
love a story so much you'll ruin the woman behind it
and your bedsheets after a dozen winters
will still smell like me when the rain knocks in.
YOU ARE READING
HYSTERIA
Poesiaand i will ruin you for loving me. and you will love me for ruining you. an attempt to reclaim the madness that defines femininity
