(no subject)

[grlninja]

No one takes pictures of me anymore,
and I can bare it.
And no one sings songs to me anymore,
and I can bare.
I used to love the feeling of a man
who thought I belonged to him,
and as a result all was right with the world.
Because I was some delicate
beautiful
intelligent
loud mouthed
flower
that wouldn't wither so ugly-like
if flipped upside down and preserved-
hung infront of a kitchen window.
And I wanted someone to take care of,
in a way I had been taken care of all my life.
But do you know where I am know?
And where my mentality resides?
In some forgein spot where I want to be
taken care of.
Comforted and consoled by a man
who will have to fill so many roles
now.
And only now.
Never like before.
Is it that anti-feminist to want strong arms
wrapped tight around me
in defense of some aspicious storm?
Going home from the bar alone is more
detrimental when a mind works like mine.