He asked me quite innocently,
“Do you want to meet
for lunch sometime?”
Through my mind,
images immediately began to flash;
the way he treated me
in the first month like a Queen.
It was quite lovely.
I thought I was in love.
The trouble with thinking…
~~~
Then somehow magically,
after 4 weeks, the tide turned
quite drastically.
Then he began treating me
as if I were a child;
a doctor of physical therapy?!
He said things that told me he didn’t
feel I knew how to take care of myself.
Wanting to record pictures of my mess,
bacon grease all over the floor,
after I made him a delicious breakfast.
Free to laugh, yet never to
Give any accolade for my
Creative use of baking soda to
Soak up the mess,
Leaving nare a trace.
~~~
After much teasing about
Every-thing
My driving,
my method of texting, even
Then of cooking,
Speaking, thinking
And processing.
I asked him to stop teasing
so much,
it was not pleasing
to my tender heart.
~~~
And what about the
time he moved
in for a kiss,
I reciprocated,
Then he made me miss
When he turned his head
away…oh, in public, too?!
I wanted to feed him
My shoe…
~~
Then, it was funny, he said.
when I shared being upset that
I missed running,
over something quite silly.
I reminded him to back off.
He enjoyed my misery, he said,
So instead driving the knife deeper
into my heart.
To the cold steel hilt.
~~~
Still not sure if he wasn’t
Listening. Or maybe he
Just didn’t care.
No matter,
I had already packed up
My heart; I was out of there!
~~~
I could see through.
Just as he crushed sexy models
mentally, saying they were ugly,
Or even worse, fat!
Just so they would give to him
their bodies
as if to prove
that they were indeed beautiful;
fuck worthy.
~~~
He was trying to crush me,
too, under the weight of his
heavy scrutiny.
“No more games,” he said.
“I promise to be honest with you,” he said.
But he was overcome
by his need to control the very
thing that he found attractive:
my beautiful, free spirit.
~~~
But I saw through,
because his behavior,
was so reminiscent of how I
decided I no longer wanted to be
married.
~~~
Misread I was, by him
even with my story of
7 hellish months of celibacy.
Unwilling to return to the
bed of separation,
because of the indignation
cast down upon me.
Instead choosing to take
care of business…
with my own hands.
Domination in the bed
doth not translate into
control of my head.
~~~
So, no. (taking a breath).
I do not want to meet you for lunch.
Fucking incredible!
Let Tiffany’s Free Spirit reign.
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