Mistress

I was alone (as usual)
Looking down at her
From the balcony of my stately manor.
The house didn't matter.
Neither did I.
He didn't love me.
Everything was for her.
I gazed upon her as she worked in the fields.
It was early, but already the heat of the sun glared down upon her.
I went to look at her every day
Hoping to find answers,
Answers that put a name to those feelings I had.
Each day I'd go to look at her,
And each day, her eyes would meet mine.
Chocolate brown pity would sweep from them
and course through me.
Her strength would infect me, and I'd turn away in blue eyed shame.
I tortured myself in wonder of
what
she must think of me.

At the beginning, there was only me.
No one could compete with me.
I was exquisite.
The perfect blue eyed blonde princess,
genteel in every way,
beautiful, accomodating smile.
Then I swallowed a slab of cold, hard truth.
I was not special.
There were a million girls that could be me.
But a million like her?
No.
She was special.

Smooth caramel brown skin
Long wild hair
Smooth, serene brown eyes filled with
beauty and wisdom
( and confidence).
And a smile
that without much effort
could melt a glacier through and through.
A smile
Even more perfect than my own.
Oh, how he loved her.

His fire for her consumed him.
He had pleaded with her to come into the house,
Come out of the sun.
I knew only because I'd heard the whispers of the maids.
She'd refused him.
I could never tell him no.
All I could do was offer my beautiful,
accomodating smile
(To hide the pain).
How I longed for her strength.
Yet I remained weak, wracked with envy and horror,
Because she owned him and didn't want him.
And as much as she didn't, I did.
She enveloped his soul.
I wanted to hate her (hate them both)
but I couldn't.

So, I stood in my fine home,
Wearing the finest dresses.
She worked tirelessly in the fields,
Under the watchful, longing eye of my husband.
Who, if it weren't so unreasonable, could very well be her husband.
Any man dare look at her,
Black or White,
He'd beat them within an inch of their life.
But...
What about me?
I just stood on the balcony,
looking at him (look at her)
Shielding my pale, fair skin from the sun,
I wished I were her.
To be she.
To see the love in his heart.
To feel the depth of his desire.
But no.
I was the the wife (he never touched),
the mistress of our home.
She was the one who owned his heart.
The mistress (who mattered).

Reviews

[Here's What I Say]

"I was the the wife (he never touched),
the mistress of our home.
She was the one who owned his heart.
The mistress (who mattered)."

:'(

Four lines. Summed up 3 months for me. Long in the past. One important difference: she loved him back. And she hated me for loving him too.

Aw, f**k them. The man I'm falling for right now has way more merit than my ex. I loved this.

[Bruce Bray]

what an awesome write..
ownership is such a misunderstood commodity when it comes to love and lust..
you have brilliantly illustrated this..
the imagery is beautiful and certainly lends itself to actually being there..
the human emotion and drama are expressed in a manner that makes you feel like you know the characters..

awesome!

[Flow~]

You hit on so many points crossing race and status. I like the story told one of riches and loneliness where the underdog wins and flaunts it daily. Thoughtful peace of work I enjoyed it for it read like a story :)

[The DuchessPoet]

Girl, you are and an awesome writer!
I was hanging on to every word ...
I was captivated by the vision that you portray through your pen!

This is ABSOLUTEL SENSATIONAL!

I love what you do... THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR HONORING ME WITH YOUR REQUEST!

Respectfully,
The Duchess...

P.s. when I grow-up I wanna be just like YOU! (smiling)

[emmajoy]

What an incredible post, what a wonderful tale of TRUTH... there are so many pictures flashing across my mind now.. you've really painted a picture so clear and sharp. The emotion in this just shouts out, i felt like passing the tissues, it 's somehow so sad. The description you've given is brilliant...

'There were a million girls that could be me. / But a million like her? / No. / She was special. / Smooth caramel brown skin / Long wild hair / Smooth, serene brown eyes filled with beauty and wisdom / ( and confidence). / And a smile / that without much effort / could melt a glacier through and through. / A smile / Even more perfect than my own. / Oh, how he loved her.

That really is something.. written really fluently and flows so well.

Thank you for letting me share.

[THE LOST ROSE]

What imagery you created here. It was wonderful to take us back into the time of slaves but do it with a classy touch. This was a movie scene played out as I read. I thought about the periods movies of our time that were created to tell us how things were. Your poetry told this same picture which fewer words. What a gift and thanks for sharing this with us.

[Brjden (Bridge-Den) Cre..]

I enjoyed the write. I love the perspective you're writing from and I could see every scene from each line you gave me! Very good write!!!!!