Skin

In my hair, in the undecided curls and waves
I see the women before me, their own forgotten

From my hands come forth
All I can do and all I choose to not

In my breasts are housed my fears, my joy, my desires
And regret and longing, below

From you I receive and to you I give
Pride and skin and lust and peace

Give your body to me, and mine is yours

I want more for you than he can offer you, if he can offer anything at all.

I want more for you than you can imagine for yourself.

I wish you would move beyond what you think is possible, convenient, too much, too little too late.

I wish you wanted to dismiss this hand you've been dealt.

I wish you would remember how it used to be, how you used to be, how we all used to be.

I hope you remember that there is life beyond him. 

I hope you'll be all right without me and with only him.

Everything about you is oblivious. Your blinkered, narrow ambition. The sounds you utter with your mouth and mind all day, every day. Your perspective on the everyday and on the future. Your love for the immediate. Your lack of consideration for those near, but maybe not dear, to you.

Everything about you is oblivious. It shows in the way you choose convenience over truth. In the way you circumvent, not face. In the way you embrace denial, not answers.

Everything about you is oblivious. And yet, you cannot flee awareness in the end. That is inevitable.

Flight

You, pecking at me,
my insides crumble piece by piece.

You, sitting there,
oblivious, denying, uncaring.

Me, isolated,
shut in,
waiting.

Me, wishing I was whole,
wishing I was brave,
wishing I wasn't begging for more.