Funny how powerful is the highest compliment for a man,
and a liability for women.
Tag: short poems
Pro-Life
I am more incinerator than incubator.
Why I can’t stop writing about the same things
My hurt just wants to be heard.
I am a waterfall, and they let go
People only know how to want me with two hands,
and have no idea how to hold on.
Bias
When my eyes get angry,
they are blind to everything but another’s weaknesses.
This is never more true than when I look in a mirror.
Salvation
I imagined my rescue in a man’s hands,
On a white horse,
Wings of some kind,
A golden ticket,
A serendipitous blessing–
somehow, salvation would find me.
It took a million wishes before I learned my life jacket was always in my own chest.
In Praise of the Women in my Life
I replaced the words in my prayers from something someone else wrote
to the names of all the women who built me.
It felt holier that way.
My Love Poems
I write about love the way a lot of men write about strong women–
deeply intoxicated by the idea
but a complete stranger to the reality.
My love poems are dimension-less symphonies
lovely and without substance.
Poetry They are starved for content in the same way I’m starved for love.
Probs
I wish I were less guarded,
but I’ve never been wanted after
I show someone the color of my soul.
Massage
I didn’t have to say a word.
My back betrayed my silence–
with one touch, they felt everything I’d carried.
Suddenly, with another set of hands,
it wasn’t as heavy anymore.
