Self-Portrait October 31, 2008

“Awwwhhhhh!”
she stretches,
tapping her painted lips
with her plumeria scented finger tips.

she is bored to tears
of years and years
of nomality,
the common
that dress up fancy.

she has reached
her sexual peak
and does not long to be freaked
she pulls hair,
carves her orgasms in backs,
builds oceans and creates tidal waves…

she now looks for a match for her loyalty
refuses to be bound my complacency
rolls her eyes at the lies
laughs–
even when she cries,
because despite the proof
she is sure she will get what she’s due.

she sleeps so well
does not toss nor turn
at all the love letters she had to burn
she uses her internal pretty
not a lost love to brighten her days
and when things get hard she prays…

still bored to tears
of all the years
of not getting her due
but believes it is true
when they say
that every dog will have its day

she will now strive to not change
to not turn blue
when in fact she is bright shades of calm green
to not be bitter
even if fate proves to be mean
to love up to her name
to remain the same
to not be pulled by the wieght of the game…
to know that the lasts one’s lost
will be
anothers gain…
self portrait