An Enigma Is Too Much For A Cat To Eat

🪻Composer For The Merit of Mushrooms

September was a great month.
My rich husband had been slain, and the money was mine!
Coping withe grief, I drank myself to unconciousness at the Christian Brothers Game
And you weren't there, jusy like last year.
Loveless, I had achieved newfound freedom
And you were right. I hated it.
I had the least romantic sex of my life
I planted myself in a soil with no name and could gain no traction
I considered my first vodka of the day when he saw me
Henceforth,
September was a great month.

I'll spare you the details
I'd told him I had switched from prey to preying, to which he
Held me tighter.
Every cloud was a different shade of pink
And for a month I believed that I deserved a love that wasn't riddled with hypercomplexity
I was so seventeen
He's not literary but he's my Hemingway
Casual, intense, effective.
The judgemental blue moon watched through the windows in the Jeep.

But the leaves started to bake at 70 degrees, and the oven cooled off on the 30th
I'd been too careless with my mattress of a man, forgotten that I am (fundamentally) an illness that eats through everything its teeth can chew on
And the ring of bites on his neck was looking infected.
He waved the clouds away and saw me with a dirty martini in my hand, the lemon twist and the olive basking in secrecy
And the manchild who started to love me had asked me for a kiss, to which I declined
But the damage was done. We were done. My hunger is too much for this, too.
I am human (somewhat) so I understand why you told my girl what you told her
Perhaps you knew this chain os events would domino down to my depression
I'm further than angry, I'm red, red, red, all night long and he doesn't stop
Because I'd finally been worth more than men
I was happy with a boy and my martini (because both sides of the fence is better than one)
And you'd painted blue all over my pink lipstick

Just like I'd done to you so many times.

I found myself in administrations office
Stinking up the place like a mushroom
A real shitshow
The social worker said the issue wasn't reading well
She said her supervisor was side eyeing my case over the pages of her magazine
No longer could I play the dilapidated victim card, falling apart from overuse
I told her I was tired and she gave me a place to rest.

The lake at Lakeside was blue as me
The days passed slowly until I found an organism to deludedly pine for
I still hate being loccked up with my own thoughts
I still hate relaxation
He was nothing, an agate for a smile
He begged to take me to the dance, I agreed
But I never bought us tickets.

There's a rose, a chef, a modest militia
But I deserve beter
After a long evaluation,
The truth floats ashore like Molly's seashell.
No one treats me like you did.
I took my status for granted
I took you for granted
I took being your big ball of hydrogen for granted
You are all the love ever stitched together and all the understanding ever welded and I took all that
For granted.
I know you might be better off without me
But are we even now?

Because I am me and demand reciprocal attention
My prowess is unwavered
Unrivaled, my influence
You can talk to any girl on earth
As long as they're not from the same province of hell as me
I am me, back to take my position as your accomplice
I now realize I am slightly evil and do not want a sweet sixteen
It's you that's justified, defining me for who I am and who I could be, the hurt we could create just to mop it up with our dreadlocks
Nobody sees me, my burnt sage and sienna wings, and thinks my underarms are beautiful storytellers.
They smile and hand me deodorant.
Nobody fucks me like you
Like a continuous scratch on the skin, increasing in intensity with length

Dear father, forgive me and listen to this siren song
You fit just right, chest to my corsetted back
I still want my midsummar themed wedding
I want you to want it too
Take your position as my resident muse
My sodalite,
I dug your azurite ring out of the ashes of our cord-cutting spell, and I'm wearing it.