My Single Boy Friend
So-a few months ago-I watched Dichotomy recite about women in a relationship with a single man
and I figured as a possible partaker in a time where situationships have replaced actual relationships:
she too has a reason for holding on to said person....the story goes.
https://soundcloud.com/disorienteddiva/my-single-boyfriend
Krik.....Krak
I have moved from broken vows to dating purgatory,
and in this ambiguity of what is needed to get into affliction heaven,
I explain the sins that keep me from elevating:
My excuses are the realities
I have lived in compound experiences,
I've been depreciated for so long,
I choose to grip fools gold and pawn
the rest of these Lego created feelings
for its single piece of worthless mess,
where you see blocks, I see the capability of buildings
Keeping hands filled with what
he once made me believe was the clarity
that loving him...
was equal to loving myself
as
I fight the addiction of relentless love-giving,
God created me this way
Teary eyed, everything is blurry now,
I see NO good men,
or more so love couldn't come from anyone but him.
ode to my broken rose-colored shades
that come up in the darkness,
forcing my eyes to adjust to the lack of light,
until my prescriptions of mutual sentiment have run out
Even with the constant refills of hope,
I could not recognize a good man
even if he came labeled with instructions,
too busy dwelling on previous side effects,
has made me a cynical skeptic,
Maybe the broken stained glass windows to my soul
have distorted the reality that men
love differently and
sex
is an irrelevant depiction
I translate
body language
define
unsaid words and
analyze
invisible movements
while living in the sixth sense of
possibility
Reading minds and third eyes
filled with silent love confessions,
Trying to cover the red flag in the sky with
maybe's,
As he too holds on to me and
releases me just enough to keep me within his fingertips
preventing my ability to leave
I have never been good at goodbyes
Still my attempts to let go
make me trip on to knees where
begging for love has been a custom
I know
there's love stronger
and deeper
but in my present,
I've only been gifted with misrepresentations
I would not recognize authenticity
even if he lifted me from my kneeling pose
No one says I'm happy
with the mediocre way that
he continues to curl me around his empty words
Leaving me in constant states
of confusion
of why emptiness and loneliness
can be traded for a few hours
of lust frenzied into shape-shifting emotions
I only feel
It's never been okay but it's just wrong enough to be right
as I am used to being left in the deep end
Because I depend on the little he gives,
Mr Wrong just happens to show up at my weakest moments
Somehow staying loyal to him while committing mutiny,
beyond my own understanding,
over analyzing my flaws
as I insure myself in the wrong hands
Hey Mr. Single,
I hold on to you for the moments it seemed to be true,
that love was written in your eyes and
the laughter of the secrets, our silence shares,
could only tell why
I clasp you
for when I fell and you caught me,
When I gave up and you fought for me,
that once in a moment I could ever ask for, that no longer has come back
I remain searching for what has never been found
My parents failed me when I was never taught to let go and give up
I admit my biggest superpower is simultaneously my biggest flaw.
Love--- loving until my insides have been rubbed raw
my unseen sleeves can drip no longer
in the abuse and disappointments of memories un-created
Dear good man, whom I have trouble trusting
and keep leaving you for pain
until I find no more pleasure in the loss of dignity
I can't let go of my "just a friend."
He echoes my broken-ness in a supersonic frequency
I only comprehend
He loved me when no one else did not even I, and in my search for the security of pain,
I hurt him in the process, somehow this is my form of reparation
irreparably damaged goods
How can I give you the purity of my love
if I have yet to configure the formula for loving myself and reevaluation of worth
in order to keep from tarnishing you with my gloomy fingers
I confess, the issue is me,
for what I decide to accept,
Dear Good Man,
I must not be ready for you yet