what a woman wants

I want you…

I want you
to be
miserable
heart-in-your-hand
ache-in-your-belly
can’t-shake-it
despondent

I want you
to feel
loneliness

I want you
to want
everything
you can’t have
and
everything
you once had

and then

I want you
to know
I want you
to have
the life you could
have had…
the life
we could have had

and I want
to mean it

~

Siobhan
1/20/2012

 

Resting in Peace

In the End

Without closing my eyes I can see
his final moments,
a grimace;
the cry in blue eyes,
a request
to be let go –
something
I can’t do.

In the end I know –
understand
he will
always
exist.

~
Siobhan
1/14/12

 

“…and the seasons they go ’round and ’round…”

Interrupt the World

If they were in the same room, could she tell?
Would she warn or interrupt the whole world
with a sordid story of her own? How
would they respond to the heartache of it?

Her stories are not unlike the others;
the similarities may startle some.
Susceptible to little boy charming,
attraction to prince oh-so-disarming.

She will be quiet, not knowing at all
who she is, how she loves, and why she can’t
see through the façade, past the imagery;
perhaps it’s the fear that for once he’s real.

She stood in that circle of light herself
and never thought it wasn’t forever.

~
Siobhan
1/14/12

 

words mean something

And then some…

A caress whispered as she falls asleep
enters her dreams, ignites old memories.
Words that held significance in her world
– simple and trite to a few people – die.

In a sentence fragment, he dissolves her
passion; leftover from a long embrace,
the truth  of their life becomes a question,
years of togetherness evaporate.

New reality swallows feelings once
the center of existence; that dull ache
inside, is reborn in a blush of pain;
and she closes her eyes against it all.

Ignorance is not bliss or misery;
knowledge is –

and it goes on
…and then some.

~
Siobhan
010112

 

one left from 2011

Twice in One Lifetime

The mirror is not a liar,
eyes interpret
what is seen, her reflection
becomes the face of someone else, beauty
an image she has never found faithful.

Cold shouldered ambivalence pushed her in
to therapy, to find out who she was –
and why she was
never enough woman,
sufficiently desirable,
witty and adequately charming
to hold love’s attention,
be his one and only.

She needed to learn she could
control no more than her own;
responsibility ended
at her fingertips –
his decision was his decision
(and her answer)
to an un-asked question.

Time taught her
twice in one lifetime
she was more than enough for any
man, if only she believed in herself.

She has come
to herself, knowing
it is the only way to remain
faithful
to anyone.

~

Siobhan
12/27/11

 

Longing for … what?

Seasonal Affective Disorder

The sun prepares to show his face and she,
grateful for the longer days, looks forward
toward a new year, happy to place this month
behind her. Memories of pain bubble
to the surface, tears prickle behind eyes
red from too much crying, too many nights
spent lost with what was, what will never be
again. As she crawls out of December,
bruises begin to heal – those they can’t see
reappear on fall’s path into winter.

Love long spent (and love lost) tug at her heart;
passion gone, desire (not) forgotten
taunts her dreams, begs her to move on, live life
on her terms – regardless of the season.

~
Siobhan
12/23/11

 

Was it raining this morning?

Storm Shower

Windows, chilled by the storm outside, cloud up,
foggy from both shower and body heat.
The clear plastic curtain brushes against
bare flesh, whispering an invitation.

The sensation of hot running water
becomes his fingertips – they skim across
her shoulders, down her spine, to settle in
the gentle curve at the small of her back.

A slick of foam traces full hips. reaches
past her inner thigh, caresses her calf
on its way to her toes; she feels his hands
glide along this path. A spiral of heat –
unrelated to water temperature –
tilts her head back into the spray, eyes closed.

~
Siobhan
12/14/2011

 

From long ago

Perched on the Edge

They were all choosing parts
deciding what role they would play.
Some evenly discussed
the pros and cons of time slots,
others argued
wanting only what they couldn’t have –
the time taken by another already set
in the certainty of privilege.

Peepers popped frequent complaints
slated for the hours between dusk and dark

Stag and doe murmured softly satisfied
with wee hours of fog and haze
slighted slightly by the agreement to share
dusk with so many.

The owl’s circular flight mirrored her
circular argument shifting between
midnight and daybreak.

Perched on the edge of discussion
sang the birds, early risers, willing
to accept the task of pulling at the morning
to lift it above the trees,
place it in front of the world.

~

Siobhan
07/02/04

 

and it is barely cold…

An Escape Plan

As the cold settles into these bones, I
drift into dreams of warmth – you and I are
relaxed on a beach beneath sun, on sand,
listening to waves wash away the ache.

When the wind howls and steals the sound of waves,
I find us snuggled under silken sheets,
topped in the luxury of comforters
soft, with a fire in the fireplace.

My hips, bone tired, long for strong fingers
to knead sore muscles into compliance
with desire – to give in and release.

Hands still functional type key words to search
for places far away; a planned escape
where these daydreams become reality.

~

Siobhan
11/28/11

 

Behind closed eyes

Layers of Light

Instead of darkness,
when she closes her eyes,
another layer
of light chases sleep away,                            out of reach.

Behind those closed doors
her feverish mind remembers days –
nights – lit
with whispers in a lover’s tongue
only they understood.
Secret words
spoken
in a different language.

An intake of breath redirects,
leads her away
from this attack, unites
energy – protects them both – settles
around her with a smile. Sleep’s illusion
blankets; she remains
still
- quiet –
seeks a calm she longs for
yet does not feel.

~

Siobhan
11/22/11