*dedicated to Andrea Gibson
a thousand lines of poetry,
a thousand lines of poetry,
declaring undying love, and companionship till eternity.
gifts, small and big, thoughtfully bought
packed and given with trembling fingers.
the last penny in your pocket
spent on a cigarette that will bring her peace
instead of dinner that will quiet your grumbling hunger.
families torn apart, never to speak again,
backs turned on friends and well-wishers
whole lifetime of relationships brought down with a single tear.
collectors editions of songs thrown to the trash
because she does not like jazz.
books burned to ashes because she doesn't like unhappy endings,
movies never watched to the end because
it was always more interesting to kiss her,
countless clothes given away because she thought
blue was not your color.
every pot and pan in your house washed a hundred times over
making her favorite dishes,
hundreds of pages of homework done, aced and forgotten
who said geometry doesn't help in real life?
are we not in a triangle now, with no way out?
everything in your power done and declared
to make her happy, and yet
she goes on building her fort.
you say you will love her forever,
and she waits for you to realize you don't want her anymore.
you say you will take a bullet for her,
and she waits for you to turn around and walk away.
you say, anything to see you happy, my darling
and she waits for you to wake up and know
that she is not a happy person.
she is a poet, and a warrior, and a lover
she has love flowing through her veins,
bleeding every fortnight because she cannot hold it all in.
she breathes poems in and out, without thinking
many never making it out of the tips of her fingers.
she has war in her eyes, angry hair and flaming hips,
making a iron-clad cloak to hide her love away.
when you told her the story of helen who launched a thousand ships
she asked you quietly
how did they know she would not want to stay with Paris?