.
(Maybe it is true that I am an ugly girl.
An inconsistent, selfish woman.)
There is a mirror in the corner and it is watching.
There is a mirror in the corner
and it is a tape recorder. Your step-father will know everything.
I look at my chin in the mirror and see it is too big. Too big for you to love me. Not big enough to keep you from fucking me but definitely too big to keep you from holding my hand on the street. I am a simple and inconsistent woman and such an ugly girl to boot! It’s true! Don’t argue, it only makes you look stupid. And every now and then stupid is worse than ugly. Ask anybody. My sister and I learned early that the best thing we could ever do is win the love of a man. Our mother beat it in to us with her big curls and big lips. Her big lips all done up in Yummy Plummy lipstick. Don’t forget your push-up bra. I was never beautiful when I was around her. Who would have thought so? Look at her. Look at her lips and her hair and how tall and thin. That isn’t me. That was my mother. I didn’t even come close. And then she died. It wrecked my eyes and my heart and all of my soft, aching insides.
I look at this man
his blond hair
and think don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry
Such big, beautiful words falling
from his big, knowing hands.
Hands
that have turned so many
pages of the sacrosanct and
fell so gently upon
the nipples of so many
aching women.
How I ache!
How I ache!
Where are you? Where
are you now?
When there is nothing I’d love better than to waste away
below the sweat of an angry hand.
Let me shy away from your gaze. I want to feel afraid of you. I want to be
crass below your touch, say all the horrible words that embarrass me later in
the day and cry your name out against your tangled sheets. I want your fist in my hair. I want your cock up my ass. I want you to slap my face and smile against
my hot cheek. I see myself becoming a corpse
and so I want to get fucked as hard and often as I can. You seem like a man who might see the
necessity of all this.
It’s been so long since I’ve cried in front of anyone.
.
as always, critique is welcome. angelasimione at gmail dot com
i want to be good at this.
7 comments:
My favorite (albeit most painful) lines:
Don’t argue, it only makes you look stupid.
--
Such big, beautiful words falling from his big, knowing hands. Hands that have turned so many pages of the sacrosanct and fell so gently upon the nipples of so many aching women.
--
...say all the horrible words that embarrass me later in the day...
I see myself becoming a corpse and so I want to get fucked as hard and often as I can.
--
...But, of course, only in their original context I mean, to be sure. The entire piece is, as a whole, fraught with pain as well as desire. These passages are the ones that made me personally affected, and in a way more intimate than I would prefer to admit in a public forum. I know you'll take that as the compliment it is intended to be. :)
I love the true of this the distance this poem has flown from your last posted poem you are doing the hard work the practice it's clear. Let me know if you ever want to work with me critique-wise through the mail. I'm expensive but worth it a d I write that at 100% without pretentions. Email me at gmail if you want my other account is canceled.
I LOVE LOVE LOVED watching the video of you watched you under my covers this morning there your amazing eyes and smile and life force. It made me so happy to see you.
Home w/ depression and sciatica wtf is up with our backs?
Much love
Rebecca
Ps. Give this poem a title. It is not a poem type thing AT ALL butit is an authentic real poem that made my synapses pop.
Xo
cana, thank you so much. i love finding out which lines are most resonant with a person. thank you for that generosity. :) you comment here is so encouraging and helps me to feel brave.
rebecca, i'm so sorry you are laid up too!!! it's awful!!! want to know how to cure sciatic? slip a disk! hahahaha! at least that's what cured mine. joking. definitely don't slip a disk. sciatica is a total horror. i'm glad you are wise enough to stay put when it surfaces and i hope the pain passes quickly, love.
thank you so much for reading the poem. i may actually take you up on the critique job for the big poem thing i'm working on (i should stop saying "poem thing". also, i took your advice and moved the poem's title up in to prime position. thank you for that.). progress in writing is such a strange thing. slow as hell but totally worth the trouble. my sentimentality has finally become something i can identify more easily these days and chop out of a work ruthlessly. still, editing is not my strong suit. i like the out-pour. i forget (or choose to disregard) the fact that editing is as much a part of writing as anything else. in fact, editing is definitely where the artistry lies.
thanks for letting me smile at you this morning as we both hide under the covers, dear friend. :) i'm so happy you got a kick out of the video. there will probably be more. ha! new obsession!!!
umm a certain BOY whose name I will not mention but who lives in my house said to tell you he wants to marry you. I don't think he's kidding :=O
ps. I give major discounts to students.
hahahahahaaaa!!! you're gonna get me in trouble with his girlfriend and all those other females hot on his trail!
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