(with credit to Jewel Kilcher and her poem, "Lovers for Lilly"~ for being my muse!)...
LOVERS FOR LACY
Lacy cherishes her lovers,
collects them like Christmas fruitcakes
and sprigs of festive mistletoe.
She'll give away her body
but she saves her heart
for the man who dares to whisper,
"Lacy, you are my home."
You can always tell
which man she's entertaining
by glancing in her driveway.
Tan luxury, black truck,
red economy, blue beater,
a mini-van, a silver sedan.
Lacy loves men and
men love Lacy.
She's not a cheap girl,
just a little bit lost,
and she appreciates the
subtle nuances of a moment.
A whiskery kiss.
Massages with scented lotions.
Candlelight baths and silk chemises.
A strong hairy chest
to lay her head against.
Fingers to stroke her long hair.
A nubile body to dance with.
Yes, someone to shave her legs for.
A reason to buy pink velvet thongs.
A whispered sweet-nothing
to pierce the silent night.
Silhouettes of a couple
making love in the moonlight.
They come to her doorstep
in sexy shirts, defining pants
with their colored roses,
their rose-colored glasses,
and their wheels of Brie.
She lingers in the morning-afters,
a man's arms to wake up to.
Cologne on her pillows
and the sweet smells
of their co-mingling.
Lip prints on wine glasses
from mouths that have kissed her,
known her if only for a brief moment...
And perhaps that is all
that she really wants,
to feel alive again,
for someone to know her intimately,
reassure her that she's real.
Nobody really "knows" her,
except maybe the one
who brings her white roses
and whispers, "I love you"
in her left ear
(always her left ear).
He sleeps on her right,
keeps a toothbrush in her bathroom
and hears her whimper as she dreams,
but she's not first in his life.
Valentine's Day, Christmas mornings,
birthdays...all belong to
somebody else, a memory,
a ghost that keeps him
trapped in the past.
She wants new traditions,
someone to cherish her again,
so she tries to hold back,
hang on to her lovers.
She loses hope in the future
and it's only their love
that keeps her strong.
And that's good enough,
she tries to tell herself,
not believing her life
can ever be fulfilled
with starry dreams again.
Love is for the birds,
a scary emotion,
to be avoided.
Lacy needs her lovers
like a bird needs a nest,
a brief respite from freedom
until she finds...
Someone to believe in.
Who believes in her.
Someone real.
Her everything.
Her home.
Maybe then,
she'll give away
part of her hesitant heart,
part and only part...
Nobody will ever own
all of it again.
Lacy will always be
just a little bit
like a lover.
