I want a guy in a pink silk suit who winks a lot and says I’m cute. Sometimes he’d call me Hun, eyes and skin shone like sun, looking at me in my femininity. The infinity of fertility. He was shy but so was I, he’d walk by, I’d catch my breath. Hated when he called me ‘Beth’ until even in silence I knew his step. I’d echo out his hollow and knew his depth. She’s so shallow, he’s so complex. Been gone two years now, still wonder what comes next. Two princes to one Tiger King, so take that ring and with much aplomb speak it so and make it be, forget your Princess H-bomb and marry me. How do you live in a house without feeling? How do you survive a savage day? I only want you to love me, I don’t need to always get my way. If we both in unison sing we know there’s nothing either could say. I’d have you, I’d hold you, I could never dare control you, you’re ferrel and I like you that way. Every mood of his face had its own place now it’s an empty parking lot. Fading memories
Where conspiracy theories meet feminist theories. (And sometimes there's poems).