There Is No Opening

 

I always run a loose ship and I love water and the milk blue
of early morning, the tomboy trees that belonged to my
childhood, where I was shy and watchful and good at being good
I love balloons and bubbles and kids in trouble that i can help
I love the way your Elvis mouth matches your open shirt
and I never hurt, anything in this life if I can help it
I have emotional, physical, and saying no problems
I have a prayer of gratitude I use for no reason, except I am grateful.
There are a thousand ways to know my dreams and sad moments
and how much I yearn for the opportunity to touch life free

But there is no opening in your body for me.

What are you doing with the incredible sweetness that love brings?
The way you stare at nothing, say you're waiting to die
Say you stopped believing years ago in a woman, that they all lie.
And you live your life by a golden rod that you pamper
and it doesn't matter what I say or feel, my thoughts just hamper
your ability to look in the mirror and see only you
I see you too. As a shut down, as a hard wall, as a bag of cement
that I can't move for the moisture that has settled in your cracks
And I understand you want me to love you, without having to give back
I understand you spent a lifetime getting away with that
but I am a touchy, feely, laughing, loving kind of woman that fights
dark invaders and black forces because I believe that LIFE
is beautiful.

I scan your brain, umbrella your rain, keep you by a warm fire.
I try to enter your heart through your stomach, your bed,
your ear lobes, your kisses, your arms that press tight
against your side with hard muscles I am too tired to fight
Till I slide to the edge and finally let you be

There is no opening in your life for me.

Reviews

[Emily B]

oh, Phibby, sometimes I know why your words whisper such special messages to my heart, we are the same kind of woman . . . and your words are so apt, so moving

[arbitrary jane]

you start with a snapshot of the speaker, her freedom and unrestrained wilderness heart, and then move into how she wants to open it all to another. the tension of her will to fit into a place where there isn't even a crack, let alone a space half big enough for her make us (who wouldn't) fall in love with her. break for her. and die with her a little as she slides to the edge, in aching resignation.
all of it, really, but especially
the bag of cement imagery... spot on.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

When you allow the pains of the past to effect you in the hear and now you are already dead, emotionally and therefore not really living. Very well penned.

[deeps]

This is pretty darn good. I enjoyed reading this write.

[Donald Meikle]

Now that's intensity, explained in no uncertain terms, half of what could be and all of what should be, held up to the light of reason with no holds barred.

[roarke]

The metaphors here are amazing. This prose is so sharply focused and moving. This piece picks up speed, growing molten hot inside. Acknowledgement, revelation, and strength, all forged in a furnace of love denied. Bravo

[Greg the Bard]

I had the honor of reading some Keats with an understanding that he wrote in the first person. This is a letter to an un-redeeming man that has taken his woman for granted. It is very well writen and has so much image tha anyone reading it would see that the writers life has not been all bad. Still it tells us that as a person in a relationship there is more to be found if you are up to trying. It is a great write with much more than pitty to offer the reader. Great Job!

[Ed Hart]

if you can just hold on for one more life time, i'll be there