The woman and the snake eater

For many years of my life I loved him,

brilliant man with soft finger tips

whose name meant happy in a foreign tongue.

We shared mutual friends, mutual dreams and

infrequently, mutual beds.

By chance, I would attach

him deeper and deeper to my heart's desires.

After all, he would make an excellent provider, diligent visionary,

beautiful confidant and on some nights

a good friend.

Our problem was

we accidentally fell in love with our good

sex.

The intimate touch of one another-

and before we knew it our relaxing

turned into kissing and our kissing

turned into cuddling and our cuddling

turned into sex… on the couch

with the blinds and windows open,

and on the stairwell

or in the front seat of the car

before and after church service.

And the attraction grew so strong

that for years we decided to grow our separate ways

branch out like moon lit rays, we tried our very best to stay away

and pretend we don’t love each other

in such a way-

But anyway, we could not

and our dysfunctional relationship of love making

and never love giving

turned some part of his heart cold,

burned some hollow places whole,

shot some things we believed bold.

and then one night

I was lying under his arm thinking

When did he grow this bitter black callus over his soul?

This worn, cynical scale over his love,

this I don’t care what I break

but I need to take, take, take- attitude.

So mean that he could dine on rattlesnakes for super

copperheads for a snack, I take that back

vipers for his brunch and eels, cobras and water moccasins for lunch.

how originally I thought we would eventually

find our way to be together.

I pit optimism against experience... as if his love was a game.

But I lost- I know I could not take his last name.

No sense in it, no need- it wouldn't be the same.

Cause everyone would know me best as the woman,

beautiful or smart- that married the man

(who couldn't decide whether he could love her)

that eats snakes... for dinner.

Centripetal force

Am I over him? I suppose I am since…

I analyze centripetal force more than

I believe we could work it out.

Am I over him? I think…

I also count the seconds between cars with about the same frequency that we would probably have happy moments.

Am I over him? Umm... I’m pretty sure that…

I nearly lose my lunch each time I think of women loving a man that refuses to love them with the same intensity.

Am I over him? So I guess…

Even if the world stopped turning

And all the water slid off its part onto the dry part

And a whole bunch of people got drowned; I still couldn’t see us together.

Am I over him? I imagine you would say…

I’m not. Because loving someone requires you to know that person,

And knowing some people can compel you to never stop loving them.

Once

Once

I gathered up all my trust and slid it across the

east coast just so I could

love someone real hard

And another time

I busted open the piggy bank of my soul

and opened myself like an apple

for someone to know I cared enough to be that vulnerable

And there was this one time

that I decided that

the depth and density of my heart was just so big

that I could withstand loving someone without them even loving me back

And the last time

I tried to love someone

I built stone dreams on sand castle blueprints

and in return they loved me like a jack lantern loves pumpkin seeds

and I and we and they were empty

So now I decided that heart is a big balloon

and it really will pop

And heck, if I was meant to love without reciprocity

Birds were meant to exist without song

or sun without shine

And hell, smoke was meant to exist even without fire.

Sings- for Liz

He’s not smooth or suave or as muscular as I date them

but that’s ok… the ones I date, I usually learn I need to hate them

There is something about him that is as charming as a well-kept home

And though I don’t want to love again, I can't seem to leave him alone

I think about him on Friday mornings when it’s convenient,

and sometimes on Thursday afternoons in business meetings

when I am so busy, so frazzled so chaotic

and the memory of his… listening skills come to mind

He makes me sing, he make me… smile

He’s not a bad boy, he’s not wild,

He’s… attentive

I like the attentive guy

the one that remembers to call when he says he will

the one that prays for me… offers to stay close to me

the one that wishes me well and encourages me

to be

the best me that I can be

He’s not cool

He’s the classic nerd… and he’s so, so, so,

he’s so, so into me!

It’s more attractive to be wanted than it is to be attracted

He makes my heart sing

and the corners of my lips pull outward until all that you can see are my 32

Beneath my desire to be safe and not love anyone new...

he feels safe to me

safer than home as ever been, safer than secrets shared with the best of best friends

he’s the sheets that you pull over head to protect you from the wooly boogers that attack at night

I tell myself being vulnerable again is so crazy so wrong but he makes me feel so gosh darn right

missing him alone incites… frustration, mental aggravation

He’s the gentle wind that smoothly sweeps the waves in my ocean to tide

No, I lied,

He allows me to be who I am

passionate fighter, career diva or just plain struggling Christian

He creates a place for me that I love to reside in

I can confide in

him and him in me

He’s slow brewed morning coffee

and I compliment him,

I am his sugar and his cream

together we make the smoothest, freshest, kick buttinest and take names team

I don’t have to be anything special for him

And me being something is more than enough to be his… his everything

He makes my heart sing

and my love wiggle and shake

He is my tsunami, hurricane tornado and I’m his Caribbean earthquake

I’ve sowed seeds of joy and hope and stood watchful

waiting and praying for it to be my time

bring me a harvest of sweet Vitamin D sunshine

I deny it, say we are just friends, but hope against hope it’s the real thing

Last time I’ll say it,

He makes my heart, he makes my heart

sing.