I miss the challenge
Someone to take me on
I miss heat- not warmth
Heat.
I miss wit and snark and sharp
Maybe even some deceit.
I miss lust.
I miss the simpler uncertainty.
Of whether or not they'd love me.
I miss the butter and the flies and the challenge of someone who dared to challenge me.
I miss maturity. I miss a man who would always be older than me.
I miss the hand I couldn't see leading me to what was never meant to be.
I miss being right when I wasn't supposed to be. I miss him.
I miss the power.
I miss the struggle.
I miss being small, trying to be tall.
I miss proving the excellence of everything I did.
I miss the praise from the audience.
I miss the ability to choose.
The ability to lose.
I miss the crew that always knew I was the ****. Hit or miss.
I miss the fire and the unguilty ability to tell a faceless name "no".

But I can't anymore. Because he's good for me.
I have to say yes.

Low-born, lowly,
lumbered, plebian
mushrooms, steal and
take, their final gasp.
 Before, a fastly approaching,
 Babylonian Avalanche. Where, lined up, thinly, ivoried-blue, are petulant
       pigs. That, usually; sniff out, lick, arr-
             est and lock up; black, brown and
               white truffles. The unguilty

              are apprehended. For false,
             treasonous reasons. So, who
            can blame the fungis, for wanting
       to seize, the cult of vulturous swines?
     By; the scruff of the system, and br-
   eak their snouts, until, their peccaried
      feathers are ruffled? The champignon,
     were; hewed and chewed, aplenty. By;

    hoggish, gnarled teeth, curled trotters
    and lavish appetites. But, those that  
   fell, to the Babylonian Avalanche, will,
  eventually, become a Mushroom Cloud.
 They'll float over, the 50, fuzzy, boarish
 corpses, to stellar, toadstool plateaus. When, their; final, pixie dust; they bite.

© poormansdreams