I did not ask for this freedom
that has morphed me into a manic creature
a she-wolf who wakes up in the middle of the night
thrashing around my heavy sheets
with the ugly fierceness that can only be an embodiement of a desire to hurt you
feeling your voice say "I want you"
and your voice imply "I don't want you"
imploding throughout my flesh in aching symphony

that's what this freedom has created-
what did you think this would do to me?
I mean did you think- was it a crossroads for you?
or a necessary step to reach some kind of peace, with me as a casualty
I hate to be self-pitying but not as much as I hate cliff-hangers




a free woman
who empties bottles of red wine
that tastes like ash trays
as she flicks letters to you into the fire
the way she used to flick bad dreams off her skin
when she woke up in the middle of the night
with the sweaty residue of running away

and she wears the pin she bought for you
like a Girl Scout badge


Did you know I was burning your postcards?
well, you shouldn't know that
but I know many things I shouldn't and here I am-
Not ones you wrote, ones intended for you
the ones I asked you for your address for

Not that I told you, but did you have that feeling of knowing?
did you see it with pitiful eyes, or fear of what you represent in my eyes now?

I was going to love you
in the romantic way,
and I want to remember you
and burn the embarrassment
of being denied the opportunity to be in love
I try not to be entitled
but I do think I deserve that