Category: Questions

Things he said to me

Some things he said to me left deep footprints in the mud part of my mind.

This is not love. It’s a neurotic attachment

You’re more stupid than my mother

You are stupid, shallow and ridiculous

You’re cold

And why did he say those things?

Was it revenge? A payback for hurting him?

He hated my fat and insulted me in front of friends, family and visitors.

He even ḥit me a few times and pushed me and then wanted me to make love.

I couldn’t, though I loved him and I tried but I drew back,  repulsed, not by him but in defense, I suppose,  I really don’t know.

Poet… Why?

Why do you write in words and phrases that hide in dark obscurity.

Is writing plainly so unappealing?

Unless my mind short circuits are you less profound?

Is it because your search for strange bedfellows in metaphors makes you feel more like your imagined idea of poetry?

I would rather that your words conjure visions and not a puzzle to interpret falsly or incidentally incorrectly?

Don’t you want me to peck and find and gobble your meaning like birds hunting seeds among the tall grass, the pebbles and dust?

I don’t mind the work, but at least make it worth my while.