I’ve been blogging for a LONG LONG time… just read through some of my entries from Xanga, LiveJournal, Blogger and MySpace.
Here’s a spoken word poem I penned a few years ago (I’d forgotten that I can write):
How Platonian of You
the cycles of conversations torment my mind, belying some wildly insane need i seem to have as a woman
for wanting simple things like your attention or you time
hoping that by being patient enough, sexy enough, smart enough, giving enough, you will somehow willingly beckon for me
but you don’t
and I am left birthing these swirls of deductive reasonings, trying to inter-weave your and my premises into some underlying conclusion
fueled by our emotions and shared with no one else
yet I am left in some eye of the storm with too many opinions and this huge disparity between what I want and what you want
frustrated by your complacent eyes, your relaxed fingertips, never eager to reach out
I gave up
I stopped asking questions and accepted you as assumed because questions asked never led to a straight answer
simply an elaborate jumble of this and that to be revised, corrected, and then completely denied at some later point
I guess I wrongly assumed that Sunday and Thursday are simply days in the week
separately only by name and followed usually by work
so I assumed that my bed is ours as much as your bed is ours
I assumed wrong
I poked wrong
I spoke out wrong
supposedly…
so I gathered my things and gave you back your space
drove away and left you to your games
wrote this note and tried to shut my mind of you
not because I was pissed
because I was
but because you were cold
because you were
and after all the swirls of talks, losing myself to ambiguity and indecisiveness
asking questions without answers
and being asked to ask questions anyway
i am at a loss
you tell me what you want
because I don’t know anymore
