Buses and boys.
Men are like buses. You wait years for one who can either hold a conversation, give you an orgasm, or just doesn't fart in bed, and then you find several that fill all the criteria, plus are funny, smart, and as hot as a jalapeno in the sahara desert.
I mean seriously, what's a girl to do? I could be the bitch I know I am and just keep them like dogs in my basement, away from the prying eyes of others, especially a couple of certain others with a fetish for other peoples my men (that's right boys, you belong to me now). I could form some kind of cult and make them worship me. Hey, I did have one guy thinking I was a demoness.
But this is good, really. It's stimulating whichever things gets stimulated in order for me to write. There is probably a specific name for it, one I will no doubt doscover at some strange hour in the morning while I'm manic, but as for now we shall have to just call it the thing that creates. And it does create - I can barely stop thinking at the moment. I am so tired, I got up at 5, walked over 3 miles in heels today, played with children, shopped, cooked two meals and yet I don't want to stop. I could traverse the void right now. And I wouldn't need a Tardis to do it.
I'd prefer not to of course. It'd mess up my hair, and I can sure as hell think of better ways to do that.
Anyway, as I haven't posted any poetry since before Thanksgiving thought I had better update, a bit...
October/November/December
Though aeons may pass
and millions will leave you
you are not alone
The mortal world shakes
with the footsteps of a God
that I cannot see.
Everything must end
but that ending doe snot make
its worth any less.
I lie here alone
sweet misery, come take me
so I can be free.
Four AM, the stars
shining in a darkened sky. I
wait for you alone.
I know you will not come now,
it is to late - yet I stay.
Science tells us that
energy is immortal
so why do you fear?
Sitting here watching
I feel as if I can reach
out and touch your skin.
I must stop this longing now
before it becomes too much.
Staring at the phone
watching the minutes tick by
in both dread and hope.
He never replies
yet I now long for him more
than I did at first.
Scent on skin
my clothes still wet
from the dew.
Every moment
an eternity since you
left me here alone.
The last broken plate
frozen turkey on the floor
along with the peas.
There are only bruises
staring back from the mirror.
When the snow washes
away maybe too will the
ice of your miserly heart!
For hours I sit here
simply contemplating you
and if you love me.
Though much time has passed
I still remember your touch,
your lips on my skin.
I am still in the pieces
that you once broke me into.
Goodnight sweethearts.
xx
Fefe