Not MFEO

What was fallen into can be fallen out of, to slide back to where we started, to before it all began; we are friends once more. Not so bad, I guess, in fact you could say fantastic. What is so bad about having a deep and heart-felt friend who will tell you the truth, love you, support you, laugh with you, let you cry, sit and giggle over the stupidest of things, defend your honour among the other thousand things you give to each other? There is no shame, no loss in that. In fact that is a cause for celebration.

I am not celebrating though, I am mourning. Mourning a fleeting chance at something rare, so close I touched it, if only momentarily, but never managed to catch and now gone. As you said though, I never sleep, I never come, I don't fancy you, I would be settling, we've both had better lovers, you aren't in love with me and of course I am not in love with you, you don't want to be put in a box, I need to be adored, you don't match my fantasy ideal, there is too much baggage on both sides.

Yet still I mourn, why? Really! Why? Habit; perhaps I have merely grown accustomed to your face, this is a passing phase that will fade like the morning mist in the heat of the sun. When the extraneous has burned away there will remain the truth of it and we will both be able to move forward into the next stage of our lives. Perhaps loneliness; I will have yet another failure to hang about my neck, another badge of dishonour that I bear like a stain on my rotten heart. I will have to consider that I may never find my true friend, my true lover, and my counterpoint in the world.

If I think that, I am broken; no glue, no splint will heal this fracture. One soul rent apart, all hope, all light, spills out and I am gone. A body is left, a productive, a useful body that will continue its existence as if I were still here, but I am not.

The Female Condition

I have held you for so long, so close
we have become conjoined.
now I carry you with me wherever I go
unable to detach from you, to be free.
A dragging weight around my neck
the blood in my veins, the air in my lungs.
words of poison whispered in my ear
Repeating misdemeaners to be ever refreshed
shown as new and sharp and dark
And wrong, so, so wrong.

Around inside me churns this mood
Each day brings more and worse deeds
Each day I feel heavier and slower
What if one day I can take no more?
No more lies, no more shame
no more imperfection, no more guilt?
Guilt, my true and trusted advisor.
A part of my heritage, a part of me
My female condition.