The vulnerability in my thighs want to escape through the floor,
It is grasping my feet, telling lies, my heaven and hell are torn.
And the perfection you keep assigning to me hurts, it’s so sore,
But you just push through the surfaces and tell me to count to four.
The counter is broken, darling, and so is my steady patience,
There’s nothing left in me that tolerates you, nothing gracious,
And I wonder whether my wishes ever really crossed your mind
Because you only show those puppy eyes when you apologize.
But it’s all about the power and not about being grateful,
It’s about being wickedly sour, about being too distasteful.
You bring the tenderness for everyone’s viewing pleasure.
When I hide away the teeth, that’s when you call me a treasure.
What is it you truly treasure, is it a quality or a measure?
Do my eyes add some relief to this equation or only pressure?
But it’s still a dream of mine to figure your dominance out.
You’ve lived like this for way too long and way too proud.
So I let you run faster, I let you trip over your confidence
‘Til you realize you’re alone and I’m not your last confidant.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 