Two-hundred and Fifty-One: My Experiment

For 333 weeks I have dropped question marks like bombs,
sewn seeds of jealousy into lapels just to see a tree of mystery
sprout out around their eyes.
I have thrown glances,
faked a good hand,
pirouetted empty promises like oases.

I am not proud of what I have done.
Their broken hearts are not oil for my ego
or the recycled roses of revenge.
They are not my trophies.

And now I do not want to sit on my swing
and give you acrobatic answers,
or let you feel the warmth of my breath
just so you get cold when I’m not there.
I do not want to swim in vieux vague rivers,
or anchor down my eyes when yours get soclose
I could tell you how many colours are in them.

I want to stop spitting out arrows of self-preservation,
warning them that they are all dispensable.
I want to see what happens when I don’t kiss like it’s a sport.
I want to flow,
get out when the boat reaches its final destination.
Not jump out in case we hit a waterfall.

I am waving a flag of my white nightie.
I will try to stop loading my gun with sticks and stones.
I will try to stop running away in high-heels.
I will try to put the game back in the box
and go wherever your Vespa takes us.

This is my experiment.
(Not you.)

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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

2 thoughts on “Two-hundred and Fifty-One: My Experiment”

  1. If you have been avoiding a serious relationship for that long this is a monumental step not an experiment.

    If you don’t find what you are looking for that doesn’t give you my permission to return to your book.

    1. What’s a serious relationship? I think, with relationships, you just kind of wake up one day and you’re in one… as opposed to deciding that you’re in one. I know what I am looking for but I don’t know what it looks like. And this guy? Wherever it goes, it goes. Wherever it goes is alright with me.

      And what book?!

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