Skip to main content

Aside

Am I really that easy to push aside?

Once because of being 'too much',
another time because 'you were a good sandwich, now I want something else to eat'
another time because 'you deserve better'
another time because 'you are Chemistry, I met Spark somewhere else'
another time because 'we were just fun'
another time because 'you expect too much from me'
another time because 'I need to feel free'
another time because 'I cannot give you what you want'
another time because 'I see you like a friend'

and I could go further,
only to be reminded what a great person I am,
only to be reminded that everyone of them will surely,
surely and always, rest assured,
remember me at my best, as they keep on saying,
because most of the time I taught them so much,
and besides, I am a sex doll.

Just the sex doll needed for some fun before
a more 'right' love arrives.

And my best,

whatever it is,
is clearly not enough
therefore, it is like be constantly reminded
that even if they saw the best in me
still, no way!

In any case, I am pushed aside,
basically forgotten, almost trampled on,
to make room for the real love,
the true spark,
the One,
the new sandwich-you-wish-to-eat-all-your-life.

Everyone claimed, claims, to see the best there is in me
at once,
just by meeting the faboulous, wonderful person I am,
no one ever comes back, not even for a little while,
not even fooled by the thought that
he could have made a mistake!
no one, though,
remains enough,
to seek confirmation,
all distracted by bew food,
new sparks,
new escapes from freedom,
that freedom I apparently
cannot be.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Let me be your Muse

Breathing is just a rhythm. Let me help you create the music. Let me be your Muse, the one lightening you. Living is not believing. Let me help you believe in something more. Let me be the one driving your pen, kindling your inner language, pulling it all out. Let me speak your language, let me teach you my language. Do trust me, do let me enter. Do talk to me, as if I was a song to be written, Please, please, let me light your sun, the sun you are suffocating inside your dark soul. Let me be your Muse, that is all I've ever needed, all I've ever wanted. To be your Muse. Play my music, act my script, please, listen to my words, recite them, recite them all, but not as if they were cold and heartless, do take them in you, make them yours. Let them inspire you. Let my words inflame you. Let me inspire and inflame you. Don't ask me to be one among the others, Do not oblige me to remain silent and to hide who I am. Do not ask normality of me, Dare an...

Because He is the One

They say that when you meet the One you feel it, deep inside of you, something tingles. You try to suffocate  it because there is no way you can be right, after all the times you have been wrong. And certainly he is not the One. He can't be, he will try to escape, from you, from commitment, from intimacy, from proximity. They say that there is a moment, in everyone's life, when you know that you need to fight. And fight harder for a love, or something really similar to love, that is slipping away, that is not blossoming as it should. What happens, when do you know when is the right time to start fighting? Perhaps when do you feel that he is the One? Or when is it that you let it go instead and accept that it is over? They say that the more you grow up the more you learn to know what you like and what you will never like. They say that at some point you are bound to find people who seems to be the right ones and are not, just because of the circumstances. So...

Millennium Bridge

Mid Afternoon, with the Millennium Bridge embraced by such a weird sun, too powerful to be London, too bright. One never gets to appreciate how big is the bridge until one sees the people walking down it. Stories passing by. So humble. And suddenly I remember that night when I called him because some romantic musician was playing 'Let it be' on the bridge. And those lights...oh those lights on the Millennium bridge that night. In my eyes. Trapped in my heart. And I remember how he was touched by this gesture. One of my usual silly romantic gestures. I sit on some stone stairs which lead directly to the water of the Thames. Directly in the river. Dirty waters but smelling of summer, today, kissed by the sun, moved by the implacable wind. I stare at a couple sitting a bit before me. She is fat, he is bold., they kiss and they seem in love. They share the food. They probably found that compromise which allows every man and woman in love to accept the beloved one without getting ne...