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ghouls of boyfriends past...  (looming)

Am I your pretty girl
hands and feet so small, petite
smile so wide it
encompasses the earth
heart so ample, large
so kind, lovingly sweet.

Will I try harder for you, then?
Will I win an Academy award?
Will I shine less if I try not
to be only your reward
but instead become my own?
Are you getting bored?
I can hear your breathing.
Or is it that we both are sleeping?
And you have once again invaded my dreams?

Why do you keep coming back?
Why do I smile almost like
a dog on command?
The smile itself is not vacuous.
The smile itself has merits
as it stands. I can not help
but be authentic. Even if you are not.
I can not help but be
who I am.

I'm not your pretty girl.

Perhaps, I was,
but only in the beginning
when you were over-wrought.
You, spending money, passing it out
like cabbage to hungry peasants.
You thought I might be bought?
Shining me up, like your new penny. Showing me off
like an unwrapped gift.

I was the air
in your lungs
the lift
in your step...
you always taking two larger ones
to my tentative shorter
There was even a time when you didn't
mind when I cried.

Back then....
We slept in grand older hotels, ones
which have long since be razed. I wonder too,
was that when your love for me began to fade?
When did the veneer begin to yellow?
Or had your feelings always flagged
at half-mast?
Was I your one moon phase, a venture into
a temporary past?

You weren't capable.
You had a certain disability.
Unable to keep up with the expenditures of the heart.
I, was none the wiser.
Stayed too long and lost my part.

Love for you meant disintegration.
I ask you not to visit me anymore.
Yet you persist, you intercede.
Cobwebs in the closet of my
broken dreams.

You know,
I can't afford the wearying
of keeping
an old dead love
blooming. You are
dead flowers long past
the grooming.

The cuckoo crows.
It is now nearly morn...
The dream is long past over.
The blood is on the corn. The
eulogy has long since been said.
I ask now...
to the long since dead...
Leave me be.

Stop your looming.

Copyright May 6, 2013 all rights reserved by this author
Melissa A Howells Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World

Bit by bit. Old heartache recycles itself.
Another episode and back in fashion.
Right, when you thought you were through
with your last chapter. Old nightmare returns.

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