You know, for the longest time I was worried that I wouldn't be able to write anything like I used to. That my fire was gone. Someone once told me that my writing is good, when I have something to say. I was worried that I wouldn't have anything to say again.

I also worried about having lost the man-hating part of my identity. Not that it was good for me, or that I necessarily miss it--but it was a part of who I was. And it was a part of my poetry. I worried that I would that I had lost the ability to harbor anything but positive feelings and sympathy. But guess what? I still have a tiny, cold, hard bitch inside! And she has a lot to say.

My being with an exceptionally honest, open, kind person for more than three years really gave these guys I've dated since my breakup an advantage. It was like an extra layer of naivety. I didn't think of men as untrustworthy, or capable of treating me unkindly. Can you believe it? I know, pretty funny stuff. But I'm ok now.

Except for I'm a sad bunny. That will pass, as I become an angry bunny. A very bitter, angry bunny.

Be warned that there is some serious man-hating ahead. One particular man, so I guess it ain't that bad...but still. Be warned! P.S. These were all written on lunch hour today, so forgive recurring themes.

For the Season

What do you know
about an open heart?
Yours is closed
as a summer town
in January,
full of dust
and cobwebs,
missing the one thing
that makes opening
worthwhile:

Someone who wants to be there.

The Apple

How can you despise your father
when you have his nose?
His selfish nature?
His hard and empty heart?

Inadmissible

Conversations held
by candle light
should be stricken
from the record.
Reality is dim and flickering.
Sense softens,
dissolves,
and melts away.
We say things
that seem preposterous
in the morning sun.
Everything that seems unreal
really is.
The wax has hardened
in the carpet
and will need to be
cut out.
You’ll be reminded
of this night
each time you look
at the missing piece
and wish you’d had the brains
to blow that candle out
before it made such a nasty
mess.

Replaceable

The last time
I saw you
I stayed the night.
You loved my closeness
my touch
my reassurance
my kindness.

I forgot my toothbrush
and my blue blow dryer
as we rushed out
to enjoy Sunday afternoon
which turned into evening
then night.

Do you remember?
We went back to my place
where I took off your shoes
so you would stay.
(You said
you didn’t remember
the last time someone did that
for you)
I undid each brown lace carefully
slowly
so I wouldn’t startle you away.
(I didn’t say
I don’t remember
the last time I cared to do that
for someone)

Each time I saw you
we were dancing inside.
Each time you stepped further away
to try to stop
your head
from spinning.
Each time
you came back for more.
But I knew soon,
you would not come back at all.

Monday morning
found you closed to me
again.
The things you’d said
in the candlelight
were forgotten
(it has been known
to make men forget).
Tired of the
running
hot and cold
I decide
some things I can replace
and some things
I cannot.

Which is why
I told you,
Fuck off.
And keep the blow dryer.