I see, eye sea, Aye!

Magpie's prompt
 

The ayes have it,
The eyes have it.

What I see is what I aye.

They edited the way i spelled 'love' in the confessions of those would-be nights of us-ness, as if my life was a piece of their published genius. They told me, I'd have to see and learn and break exactly how the legends in the field have, if it were all to mean anything. They told me there was a rule to how all this worked, that the heart would break into exactly 999.9 pieces, shapes might vary though. (Well, thank god for that!) They told me I wasn't what I thought I was when I was the most me in your arms. 

I hiccuped endlessly to word out the mushy goo in my head, to unsay the sighs they mistook for words of conformation, within every jerking cell of my body raising an urge to connect the dots quicker than I ever would imagine to be possible. 

Hurriedly, yet ever-so tenderly,

I pluck out my eyes-

yes, those beautiful brown eyes, 

for I can aye no more. 

p.s: shared with Magpie tales and Thursday poets rally# 45

Pretend

Thanking Jingle for the award

You move into a new city.
Away from the madness and the past.
You find a new job and with it, independence.
First day at work, your eyes spot him in the crowd.
He is incredibly handsome;
Incredibly out of your league.
But for some strange reason he spots you too.
And he'd like to fuck you!
He steals you away from the loaded work-table,
And takes you to an unmade, well-slept in bed.



Your head screams out all the things you saw in the mirror each day-
hideous, unattractive, rejected and always unwanted.
Before you question him-
'why do you want me?'
-He pretends that your curves are delectable 
and your scars sexy. 
His voice sounds like soft silken touch 
as he moans your name gently into your ears.


And you ...
You shut out your screaming head,
Close your eyes tight, 
And pretend he didn't talk to other girls like that.


shared with poetry potluck. and Thursday Poets' Rally#42.