She said
She couldn't return
Because the space
I had lovingly made
Wasn't clean.
My fun
Wasn't her
Good clean fun.
I am always
Saddened when
The darkness I battle
Comes into
My home
Through such
A beautiful vessel.
But beauty
Often encases
Such fearful things
Carefully cultivated
In little girls
And boys
Before they
Can be taught
What hate
Shame &
Guilt are.
Me
My home
My friends
We're seen
As unclean,
Not by
Those we'd like
To so easily
Place in the
Category
Of Judgmental
Closed minded
Outsiders
But by
A young woman
Who loves
Sci-fi and fantasy
As much as
I do…
To call
A faery ball
Too kinky
And unclean
Before the Mythica
Hour
Is unfathomable.
A sadness
Twice now
This week
Washes over me.
Sad because
In both instances
There was nothing
I could do
And I am
Powerless
To help either
Of these women
To see the beauty
And love
Over their
Own fears.
It's a toxic world
And I could
No sooner
Cure cancer
Than their thoughts
That cause it.
What is
Dirty
Isn't my place
My home
My space
That I lovingly
Create for others
To feel safe…
But the thoughts
Of what others
Bring into such
A space,
To see it
That way.
Love becomes
Narcissism,
A Mid-Summer Night's Dream
Becomes unsafe
Dirty kink,
When seen through
Glasses that
Have had dirt
On them for so long
The mind had forgotten
It was there,
But the heart
Never forgets
That pain programmed
In during
Childhood,
And the adult
Forgets
Their emotional
Reponses comes
From the inner children
Of their
Ancient pasts.
Neither one
Can see me
Clearly
Or cleanly…
And only
Love and time
Can hope
That someday
I will be seen
Past the dirty
Glasses.
