“Is this the point where you tell me
you’ve been bullshitting all along?"
This comment, at 12.33pm on Messenger,
stopped me in my tracks – I had to
Why say that? Is this where you are?
Role research? Experimenting on me?
I have opened the door for you once more.
You are the love of my life returned
to my room…
‘cos of who you are, who you’ve been.
And who I’ve been - where I’ve been.
My labels are cheap, used and tattered.
Yours exciting, money new, and ‘out there’.
Can you ignore…
appreciate the journey, walk the same road
remembering why I react from memories.
How did this happen and why now?
The director knows the outcome,
my script done…
Nuances of assistance from higher hands…
mysterious determined effort for lasting love.
If the future wanes – dumping my heart…
When I prove not to be what you want…
If my love…
can’t match your carefully constructed,
mental and emotional picture of me today...
Rejection! A resounding slap in the face.
Eternal damnation of idealism – romance.
my impossible dreams have no right
to insert themselves into my reality.
I will still love you – hate you first but
eventually settle back to loving you again,
I will treasure always your careful words,
your considered approach – all the ‘bullshit’!
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003