Poems from a Broken Heart

Canadian Storyteller Karen Godson My Story Poems of Desire Poems from a Broken Heart If... Evolving Soap Box Reader's Reviews Picture This!

"Even as the heart dies, poems are being born." K.G.

At Arm's Length

Suddenly
the length of my arm
is exactly the number
of inches between us,
minus one.
Sometime
when I was a fetus
my fingers stopped growing
just soon enough that I
can't grasp you.
Somehow
the chain on your ankle
that leads to me, your ball,
became so short that you
are tripping.
I swear I
don't want to entomb you;
I only seek a kiss
or just an, " I missed you"
Nothing more.
Instead,
there's the back of your head
for the hours before bed.
I can't be a fly on
your cell wall.
Surely
it's not a life sentance,
and I'm not your pennance, I'm
not the lock on your door;
I'm the key.

Don't Mind If I Do

My heart is not a revolving door
through which you may come and go as you please.
I am not a buffet
where you can take your fill of the things you like,
and leave the rest to grow cold,
developing a leather skin.
If you are so ashamed
of what is hanging on your sleeve,
why don't you flick me off
and be done with me?
I am not a wad of gum
that you chew on and spit out
when the flavour is gone.
I am the woman you chose
to walk through life with;
beside me, not in front of me.
I will NOT walk two steps behind
and offer my hand to your foul-mouthed friends.
Oh, and if you insist
Thank you.
I do believe I WILL fuck off.