Poetry

That Poor Man

He wants to hold her
She wants to be held
But
They want different things.

She
To cherish
He
To feed.

His shadow slips over her
She opens her arms
Hollowed with loneliness
This time
This time –

He begins

Whimpering, sighing
Drooping, clinging, like
Ivy

Poor me, poor me, oh, poor me
You can never know
How much I suffer
How much
You make me suffer
Take my darkness
So I can hate you.

Her purpose is
To bear his wrath
His guilt
His shame

Or

To snap –
Desperation, frustration
Neighbours listening
That poor man
That poor gentle man

Heads he wins
Tails she loses

She goes to his well to drink
Draws up the sparking brightness
It burns her lips
Rips out her throat
Destroys her soul

Starving, she sees him bearing food
Offering it
But when she gets close
He takes it back
Devours it himself
Then
Devours her too.

She can take his blame
And be evil
Or
She can struggle to survive
And be evil

Heads he wins
Tails she loses

That poor man
That poor gentle man.


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