A poem about giving up my precious for an idea of him.
Giving up my tea cups was like throwing a hand grenade into my hearts cavities.
It went: Bing, Bamb, BOOM…shrapnel flying everywhere.
Slicing through every piece of me.
My heart is spilling it’s deepest desires, all over the floor.
Do I want you?
Or the idea of you?
My pulse is slowing now.
No warmth in my skin.
How long must I thrash in this Golden Cage?
The silky black is taking me over.
Would you whisper to the Ghosts to save my life?
My eyes begin to dilate.
Maybe I’m being over dramatic again.
I mean, hey, it’s just a tea cup, right?
But sometimes objects, animals, people, things, strike us at just the right moment. And an imprint happens and you are hooked. It was just a thing. But it meant everything to me.