(I very need to work on titles... Well, its 2am and I'm late and nothing else is suitable to post. This is angry, but all feelings are valid and in 'feminist memoir' today we talked about women needing to make space for their anger. Consider this that. I'm gonna pretend that this is brave...)
It should be me seducing you
when nights start getting late.
Batting my eyelashes, giggling some,
making you sit and wait.
They say it's us who drive men mad,
but I know this is wrong.
You make me crazy when you smile,
when I watch you sing a song.
Seduction is a silly thing
and though it ought be me,
I find I have no patience now
to guide you towards what you can't see.
And since it makes me nauseous
to watch you turn away
I think I'll leave and won't return.
And even if you never say
I'll imagine you'll be disappointed
in my disappearing act.
Instead of picturing you with her
I'll pretend you want me back.
It won't matter either way though,
what you say or do.
It's clear to me you're dangerous
so my armor's fully on, I'm through.
Through with flirting, through with coy,
through with highs and lows.
Through with guessing games and bullshit.
Through with giving in to throws
of passion. Through with giving you
my heart you never worked to get.
Through with letting you break it.
Fuck your smile. I'm over it.
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THE LAST LINE.
ReplyDeleteThis is one of my favorite AD works yet. Had to comment. Simply had to.
The couplets go from intellectual, to angry and slightly immature, then like the end weaves back and forth and it just is exactly the frustration that I feel 95% of my life. Perfect.