if the act is on, full wattage
everyone sees a together girl, straight backed by taut strings
oh the puppet master pulls
them tightly in compensation for internal sag
they see a girl who has checked all the boxes;
education, polish, spit and shine, big smile, combed hair, thighs together
they see what they want to see
just as we read the truth and speak a lie
who wants to know the inside? The fight beneath?
Maybe at 18. When we still have patience, and time, and youth and romance
thinking it lovely to talk of emotions and breakage and pain
the beauty of those things when safe from death
edging closer, every year, less tolerance
until even your therapist has a break-down and can’t listen anymore
Covid 19 keep your distance? Aren’t we already alienated and disregarded?
She wants someone to listen, she wants someone, she wants to stop
this hole within her from growing out of control and taking her over
she wants to speak her truth to someone who gives a damn
it’s almost like wishing to have perky tits again and a hymen
it’s almost like hoping at the dinner table for love instead of silence.
She used to fake it really well, used to know all the ways of getting clean and squeaky
People are kind to children and pretty youth
Unkind to those who are mentally ill and grow old in their despair
old before your time, before you stopped wanting to be wooed and still wanting to wear
tight clothes and push up bras, just because you can.
Now she understands why middle aged women read romance novels
or hate and never do
the combat of wanting to be desired and knowing it’s not going to
ever again, they only like those little girls in tiny clothes
whose bodies are barely formed
are you bitter? Are you scorned? The world belongs to men
because they stop loving at a certain age and women
hate each other especially the peachy ones, who remind them of
what they’ll never get back.
The fight beneath, the bitchy office manager who used to tut beneath her breath
every time she walked past in her best blue heals
she had a good heart then and it hurt to be treated so
now she knows the meaning of
the loss in their eyes
but she still wants to be desired
is she going to turn into one of those sad ole gals who keeps wearing too tight jeans
hanging out at less and less popular places in hope?
Or will her heart shrivel and dry like a match burning its sulfur
hardly holds its original form
just the dark wood left, stained by flame
never to be struck
again.
She would like to think someone would
love her at any time, for more than whether she has loosening skin or
sagging bits, she has heard this is something men point out unkindly in bed
she’d probably sock them if they did, and bite something off
who the fuck has the right?
It fills her with a fresh hell to imagine
how they think they’re entitled
but her young self will remind her; it’s we who let this happen
dear wolf
we lay ourselves down when they tell us we’re not worthy
and we either let ourselves vanish
or we stop believing we can be
desired for more than the price of our skin
imagine us hanging like pieces of meat
dear wolf
waiting for the flies to obviate our claim
to be equal or good enough
whilst they, rotund, graying, flacid
rule the world or pretend to
we give life, we carry the future
are we going to let this be or
become wild, something untamed and furious
with the thirst of a girl wanting to give her entire heart
and throw it into the furnace
watch it burn with all that you want
this love, this need, this impossible desire
even as your body dries and says; I am done
you’re never done, you bring life, you bring longing
within you is a timeless heart.
She wants you to know
she may seem withered to you or not
as once she was, but she needs as much as ever
that desire, so much so she may climb out of
of her falling skin and become
a butterfly in reverse, going underground
where in darkness nobody can tell
then it’s all about the beat of life
that eternal drum
and anyone can play
as long as they join
beating their need against stretched leather
in the ancient way before we invented
exclusion and condemnation
when those wisest and most sought
were not children
but their bright eyed elders
still with the pulse
of hunger inside them.
This is an incredible piece which powerfully reflects how the greater part of our society views both age and woman (and those combined). It is a sad state of affairs which, sadly, the media continues to perpetuate despite us all knowing better.
Your writing never fails to impress me. Bravo.
LikeLike
Chris thank you because I was on the verge of lacking confidence in my writing and it means everything that someone has faith in it. Thank you my friend you really are a friend and moreover a kind soul who empowers others. That is rare these days. I greatly appreciate it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You should have belief in yourself – you have a natural talent at getting to the truth and in writing with sensitivity and compassion. Sometimes I feel that, whilst in reality touching just one other is enough to justify our efforts, the more we bare ourselves the more we hope that others will understand – and yet the truth is often far from this. Keep writing and I, for one, will keep reading.
LikeLike
Maybe I should. It’s hard. A lot of people ‘think’ a lot of themselves. I have the reverse issue. I try to get to the truth though. I would agree. Thank you so much. You really have made this girl so happy with your kindness. It may not seem like much but it really means a great deal to me. I agree w/u even if we touch only one person our job is done. It’s not about everyone or everything. As you say, the more we hope that others will understand. It is definitely not easy as so many do not seem to care. Thank you for caring.
LikeLiked by 1 person
☺ always my pleasure to read you, and to hope that I understand you.
LikeLike
I believe Chris that you do – in an uncannily deep way. I suspect we were separated at birth or some such thing because I get you and you get me and it’s a really good thing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
One of the beauties of the modern age: the ability to truly connect with those whom one would never meet in a lifetime of travel…and it is a pleasure.
LikeLike
That is well said and so true. I am very glad to know you here. Whereabouts do you hail from?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Born in the East of England, but grew up in Birmingham (the UK city, clearly) and now live a few miles outside in a small town named Stourbridge.
LikeLike
No wonder we get on. I lived in England many years. No wonder. Where is Stourbridge? Do you have a lovely Birmingham accent? I have a london/american/french one. Always loved the North of England especially and the breccon beacons and Bakewell and Cambridge for some reason and the wilds of Lake District and Peak District and Wales. Countryside. English countryside and pub food. Oh and Ribena and Marmite and Scrumpy Jack and Cadbury’s chocolate and english apples and hot toddy and welsh rarebit! No wonder we are twin souls.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha, ha, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone dedcribe a Birmingham accent as ‘lovely’! Stourbridge is about 15 miles to the west of Birmingham, and boasts a ‘Black Country’ accent, which is similar to the untrained ear, but actually quite different. My own accent is now somewhere between the two. I take it you lived in London?
We are blessed – it is a beautiful country (despite the rain!). And, funnily enough, I grew up about 3 miles from the Cadbury factory!
Take care.
LikeLike
I love the Black Country accent and know it! But then I’m quite bright, I know Monster Munch too 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I may start replying in Black Country – or should that be Block Country? Ow am ya, bab? Weem gettin a bit puddled being stock in – at least i’tay rennin no mower.
LikeLike
Do it! I love it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I read this and hear an exchange in Shaw’s “Don Juan In Hell”. Juan is explaining the ways of Hell to an old woman:
“DON JUAN Consider, senora: was not this true even when you lived on earth? When you were 70, were you really older underneath your wrinkles and your grey hairs than when you were 30?
THE OLD WOMAN No, younger: at 30 I was a fool. But of what use is it to feel younger and look older?”
LikeLike
Hahahaha! Bob that’s perfect!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – Beneath the evidence of age, still the desire to be desired burns as a flame.
LikeLike