When tenderness became a thing
That left with you, well, I've regained
It - there are men, who care, and show
It, too. Kissing on main market streets
Is a thing. This wasn't supposed to be
Revenge. It wasn't. I asked my friend,
And he said yes. Well, he kissed me,
Like a man. He took what he wanted.
He took joy from seeing mine, and I was
A woman again, and your rejection faded,
And men were men, and women were women,
And all was right in the world. Save that I
Messed up my knee and should have told
My family where I was, why I'd got stuck
After the work-do. I was supposed to have
Helped and all. I have a love already - it is
With those waiting at home, not waiting
To be found on a street corner, cold and
Desperate, like a Frank Sinatra song, sung
Nervously by a girl who wishes she were more stupid.
But, (you whose name dare not cross my lips),
It wasn't so sad. My colleague was gratified -
What do you know of a ten year love story
Falling apart? You, who built me a lifetime
In two weeks. Were I better at talking. Could I
Figure you any more than he could figure her.
Do you know what desire tastes like, your own?
Do you remember mine. Did it feel alien on
Your tongue. Did I feel like "No, this is nothing
Of mine, this is not mine, not this." I wonder.
What do I know about love? I know about seeing
The hurt in someone else, and kissing that.
I know how to care for wounds, and I know
How to rip them open, too. Last night might
Have been the first time I didn't want revenge
On every deep cut men have grafted in my bones.
Someone cared (and people cared at home, too).
Someone wanted me (at home I was wanted, too).
I wanted to cast light onto a shadow in his mind
And found my own darkness again, like you will,
Perhaps, the next girl you take a chance on,
When you need a reminder you still have the touch,
Or when you fall, like a boy. I reach out and I
Find my own wounds, and yours, in the night.
I reach for you, and I find you barred. You
Swallowed the key and the lock, and I don't -
Can't - want to reach into your chest to pick
The lock with my bloodied fingers. Benya,
(Oh I dare), I'd gnash flesh to bone for you
And break that to the marrow, but your name
Would be "Love", and I am not that stupid.
Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 12:54 AM UTC
When tenderness became a thing
That left with you, well, I've regained
It - there are men, who care, and show
It, too. Kissing on main market streets
Is a thing. This wasn't supposed to be
Revenge. It wasn't. I asked my friend,
And he said yes. Well, he kissed me,
Like a man. He took what he wanted.
He took joy from seeing mine, and I was
A woman again, and your rejection faded,
And men were men, and women were women,
And all was right in the world. Save that I
Messed up my knee and should have told
My family where I was, why I'd got stuck
After the work-do. I was supposed to have
Helped and all. I have a love already - it is
With those waiting at home, not waiting
To be found on a street corner, cold and
Desperate, like a Frank Sinatra song, sung
Nervously by a girl who wishes she were more stupid.
But, (you whose name dare not cross my lips),
It wasn't so sad. My colleague was gratified -
What do you know of a ten year love story
Falling apart? You, who built me a lifetime
In two weeks. Were I better at talking. Could I
Figure you any more than he could figure her.
Do you know what desire tastes like, your own?
Do you remember mine. Did it feel alien on
Your tongue. Did I feel like "No, this is nothing
Of mine, this is not mine, not this." I wonder.
What do I know about love? I know about seeing
The hurt in someone else, and kissing that.
I know how to care for wounds, and I know
How to rip them open, too. Last night might
Have been the first time I didn't want revenge
On every deep cut men have grafted in my bones.
Someone cared (and people cared at home, too).
Someone wanted me (at home I was wanted, too).
I wanted to cast light onto a shadow in his mind
And found my own darkness again, like you will,
Perhaps, the next girl you take a chance on,
When you need a reminder you still have the touch,
Or when you fall, like a boy. I reach out and I
Find my own wounds, and yours, in the night.
I reach for you, and I find you barred. You
Swallowed the key and the lock, and I don't -
Can't - want to reach into your chest to pick
The lock with my bloodied fingers. Benya,
(Oh I dare), I'd gnash flesh to bone for you
And break that to the marrow, but your name
Would be "Love", and I am not that stupid.
"I love you." - Frank Sinatra
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