Poem 2

Maybe she fell in love with his eyes

I can pretend that.

Blue. Light as the water dripping clear in Greece. Windows to the soul, a soul that's heartless and still raging with a firey pit. A soul of something lost within ages. Lost.

Blue. Blue and light. When touched; getting darker. Empty eyes. Beautiful and endless.

Blue and overflowing with grief of years ago.

I can pretend she fell in love with his hair.

Blonde.

Silk as honey. Maybe.

Dirty blonde. Brighter ago.

Changing. Always.

Cliche with his light eyes.

Blonde. Dripped with the sun.

Lasting forever and growing brighter. Darker.

I can pretend.

She fell in love with his words.

Words melting her skin.

Making her weak.

Feable.

Open.

Open to be taken. Taken his prisoner.

I can pretend she fell in love with him.

But then.

I'd have to pretend

She wasn't a whore.

Hanging around men.

One after another.

Changing for them.

Changing like blonde hair in sun for to long.

Changing like a mother when her sons not home.

Changing like the seasons.

Like a pregnant women over months of heaving;

Carrying a baby.

Changing.

Hanging around men.

Leaving me,

Insecure.

What was she.

A flirt.

A mother trying to find a home,

A wave all alone.

A child drifting with the tide.

A parent forgetting to say good night.

A kidnapper of free will,

Or a fighter of her opinion;

Which was always wrong.

What is she.

Am I like her?