Perhaps all my spoiled years
of being an only child
have armed me with audacity
to ask for the moon.
I will ask.
I will request that you make me first choice,
Not last resort,
Not the only loser left,
Not the “just because”
when all your better options say “no”.
Don’t come to me,
acting as if you chose me first,
When my intuition knows otherwise.
I will not be a falsified treasure
for those who have no respect
or value to provide.
David Menzies approached me a little while ago to interview me about my poetry book, Four Years. ‘Twas cerebral, flattering, and very exciting. Check it out!
Buy my Book!!
We’re talkin’ gritty, “mature” subjects about existing, being in your 20’s, and well…that oh so very rocky road of the underdog’s life. This was, originally, just some poems I decided would never see the light of day. Who wanted to read sad things, angry things, or lonely things? Who wanted to read about crappy relationships? I doubted myself for a long time until it dawned on me–I can’t be a writer or a poet if I keep things to myself. That included the ugly, morose, gritty, mature things. That included the self absorbed dreck…which…um..I’m sure we’ve all gone through at some point.
I threw caution to the wind, began to copy poems, and kept it moving. Here we are. 🙂
People are so serious about their missions,
Forgetting how they’ve formerly treated you,
Dropping by to say hi.
You can’t start convos with me
When you’ve forgotten a birthday,
Forgotten who I am,
Went away for so long,
Tried to pick me up
When you have time.
So much dust on me
You’ll put me down again, anyway.