I read somewhere that if you're jealous
of someone that they have something
you want to have, but don't have.
I guess they meant the times
one is jealous without a reason
but how do you know that's the case?
Do you check your partner's
phone and mail?
Do you perhaps even hire a detective?
It seems so expensive ...
I don't have the time nor the money
so for me, jealousy is a luxury
I can't afford ...
By © Dolores Meden 2017
Visar inlägg med etikett The Taste of Love. Visa alla inlägg
Visar inlägg med etikett The Taste of Love. Visa alla inlägg
My writings: The bittersweet taste of Love: Control
I
You hunt.
I know you do.
I have seen you
live in action
too many times.
Sex isn't the goal.
Your goal is more
precious.
Your goal is more
painful.
Your goal is
control.
If I say
something,
you always bring up
my friend.
My precious friend,
the end
of all our discussions.
II
I promised
not to see him anymore,
but nothing
happened between us.
I told you
that we were only friends
and that we never
talked or wanted
anything else.
You didn't believe me,
even if my words were
very convincing.
I don't feel the way I do
because he is more attractive
than you.
I can't love you anymore,
not because of him,
but because of you.
You and your suspicions.
You and your control.
My promise is just words.
Words that
I'm not going to keep.
III
I don't care
what you think
anymore.
Once I loved you.
Now you're just
a flatmate.
I have my own friends
that you don't know.
That I don't want you
to know.
I don't want to know
what you think about them,
because I know
you wouldn’t like them.
You never do.
I know,
that if you knew,
that this would hurt you.
I know
but I don't care
not anymore...
IV
I didn't want to see your pain.
I didn't want to know what I've done
because it was over for me.
It was over years ago
but you didn't know.
You didn't listen.
Once you had power.
Once you had control.
Once I was afraid of you.
Now I'm no longer yours.
Now I can go
and know that your pain
is yours not mine
not anymore.
By © Dolores Meden 2017
You hunt.
I know you do.
I have seen you
live in action
too many times.
Sex isn't the goal.
Your goal is more
precious.
Your goal is more
painful.
Your goal is
control.
If I say
something,
you always bring up
my friend.
My precious friend,
the end
of all our discussions.
II
I promised
not to see him anymore,
but nothing
happened between us.
I told you
that we were only friends
and that we never
talked or wanted
anything else.
You didn't believe me,
even if my words were
very convincing.
I don't feel the way I do
because he is more attractive
than you.
I can't love you anymore,
not because of him,
but because of you.
You and your suspicions.
You and your control.
My promise is just words.
Words that
I'm not going to keep.
III
I don't care
what you think
anymore.
Once I loved you.
Now you're just
a flatmate.
I have my own friends
that you don't know.
That I don't want you
to know.
I don't want to know
what you think about them,
because I know
you wouldn’t like them.
You never do.
I know,
that if you knew,
that this would hurt you.
I know
but I don't care
not anymore...
IV
I didn't want to see your pain.
I didn't want to know what I've done
because it was over for me.
It was over years ago
but you didn't know.
You didn't listen.
Once you had power.
Once you had control.
Once I was afraid of you.
Now I'm no longer yours.
Now I can go
and know that your pain
is yours not mine
not anymore.
By © Dolores Meden 2017
My writings: The bittersweet taste of Love: Fear
I
I hear the key in the door.
I hear how you open it
and I'm AFRAID,
AFRAID of your words,
AFRAID of your accusations.
I'm AFRAID!
II
Your jealousy is killing me.
I lied that I was at home
but I went out.
I didn't meet
anyone.
I just wanted
to take a walk.
Your harsh words
denounce me
and I mumble
quietly to myself
no,
I'm not a whore
I'm not ...
and the back of your hand
hits my face
and it hurts
and you hit me again.
My lips are bleeding
and I don't hear
your words anymore.
III
I wake up in the morning.
You’re not there.
I know I have to go.
I know I must leave you,
because this wasn't
the first time
you hit me
but I hide.
I hide under the blanket,
inside myself.
I hope
that my pain
will disappear,
that everything
will disappear.
IV
I play a game.
A game I can't control.
A game full of love
and broken promises.
The game isn't mine
it's yours.
I'm only a player
without a will,
without any words.
By © Dolores Meden 2017
I hear the key in the door.
I hear how you open it
and I'm AFRAID,
AFRAID of your words,
AFRAID of your accusations.
I'm AFRAID!
II
Your jealousy is killing me.
I lied that I was at home
but I went out.
I didn't meet
anyone.
I just wanted
to take a walk.
Your harsh words
denounce me
and I mumble
quietly to myself
no,
I'm not a whore
I'm not ...
and the back of your hand
hits my face
and it hurts
and you hit me again.
My lips are bleeding
and I don't hear
your words anymore.
III
I wake up in the morning.
You’re not there.
I know I have to go.
I know I must leave you,
because this wasn't
the first time
you hit me
but I hide.
I hide under the blanket,
inside myself.
I hope
that my pain
will disappear,
that everything
will disappear.
IV
I play a game.
A game I can't control.
A game full of love
and broken promises.
The game isn't mine
it's yours.
I'm only a player
without a will,
without any words.
By © Dolores Meden 2017
My writings: The bittersweet taste of Love: The Waiting
I
We are going to a party.
If I could, I wouldn’t
but the appearance
of being normal
is important to me.
I want to be normal
and normal people
go to their friends'
parties.
But they talk to you,
not me.
My words are small
and meaningless.
I know you don't
understand.
I know
because you said so.
Now my words are
even smaller,
even more meaningless.
II
My glass
is made of stone.
A hard and heavy stone.
The wine is arsenic.
My mouth is dry
without saliva.
My tongue lies
glued and motionless,
unable to speak,
unable to move.
My feet can't move.
I can't go to the door.
I can't leave the room.
I can only stay
and listen
to their words,
to your words.
III
I wish I was her.
That it was me
you laughed with.
Now I'm only
your partner.
The one
you come home to.
The one
who waits for you,
but she,
she is the warm
glittering laugh,
that makes you laugh,
that makes you warm,
and I,
I'm the one,
who patiently
waits for my turn.
IV
I wanted to be yours.
I wanted to be
the one you wanted.
I bought the dress
you said
made me beautiful.
I put on the shoes
you bought for me
and the perfume
"Esprit d'Oscar"
to remind you
of our first date.
But you were tired
as you always are
and you didn't
even mention
the dress, the shoes
and the perfume.
The next day
I put on
the dress, the shoes
and the perfume
and
you didn't
even notice
that I left.
I went
to a friend
a willing friend
and had sex.
Later
when I came home
you didn't notice me
but
what would you
have said
if you did,
did I betray you
or
did you betray me …
By © Dolores Meden 2017
We are going to a party.
If I could, I wouldn’t
but the appearance
of being normal
is important to me.
I want to be normal
and normal people
go to their friends'
parties.
But they talk to you,
not me.
My words are small
and meaningless.
I know you don't
understand.
I know
because you said so.
Now my words are
even smaller,
even more meaningless.
II
My glass
is made of stone.
A hard and heavy stone.
The wine is arsenic.
My mouth is dry
without saliva.
My tongue lies
glued and motionless,
unable to speak,
unable to move.
My feet can't move.
I can't go to the door.
I can't leave the room.
I can only stay
and listen
to their words,
to your words.
III
I wish I was her.
That it was me
you laughed with.
Now I'm only
your partner.
The one
you come home to.
The one
who waits for you,
but she,
she is the warm
glittering laugh,
that makes you laugh,
that makes you warm,
and I,
I'm the one,
who patiently
waits for my turn.
IV
I wanted to be yours.
I wanted to be
the one you wanted.
I bought the dress
you said
made me beautiful.
I put on the shoes
you bought for me
and the perfume
"Esprit d'Oscar"
to remind you
of our first date.
But you were tired
as you always are
and you didn't
even mention
the dress, the shoes
and the perfume.
The next day
I put on
the dress, the shoes
and the perfume
and
you didn't
even notice
that I left.
I went
to a friend
a willing friend
and had sex.
Later
when I came home
you didn't notice me
but
what would you
have said
if you did,
did I betray you
or
did you betray me …
By © Dolores Meden 2017
My writings: The bittersweet taste of Love: Revenge
I
You looked at her
and I saw that you had
your special smile.
The smile you have
when you like someone
and I felt left aside
so I went to my own
friend,
that I like and you don't
and forgot about you
and your smile.
II
I smile and laugh at his jokes.
I feel that I have more in common
with him, than with you
and for the minutes I'm with him
I forget about you.
I forget about your pain
Sometimes I even justify
my happiness that I'm worth it
and that he’s only my friend
even when I see how you
crumble before my eyes.
III
My revenge is sweet
and full of deceitful lies.
You didn't want to hurt me
and of course
I didn't want to hurt you.
What a mistake.
What a horrible mistake
to see our acts as features
of a treacherous game
a game of life and death.
IV
My guilt isn't obvious.
I collect it in a box
and put it away
so no one can see it.
I collect the acts
that makes me feel guilty.
My small pleasures
with other men
things you will never know.
Small guilt-ridden pleasures
and the knowledge
that I'm always
on top of you
that I always win.
By © Dolores Meden 2017
You looked at her
and I saw that you had
your special smile.
The smile you have
when you like someone
and I felt left aside
so I went to my own
friend,
that I like and you don't
and forgot about you
and your smile.
II
I smile and laugh at his jokes.
I feel that I have more in common
with him, than with you
and for the minutes I'm with him
I forget about you.
I forget about your pain
Sometimes I even justify
my happiness that I'm worth it
and that he’s only my friend
even when I see how you
crumble before my eyes.
III
My revenge is sweet
and full of deceitful lies.
You didn't want to hurt me
and of course
I didn't want to hurt you.
What a mistake.
What a horrible mistake
to see our acts as features
of a treacherous game
a game of life and death.
IV
My guilt isn't obvious.
I collect it in a box
and put it away
so no one can see it.
I collect the acts
that makes me feel guilty.
My small pleasures
with other men
things you will never know.
Small guilt-ridden pleasures
and the knowledge
that I'm always
on top of you
that I always win.
By © Dolores Meden 2017
My writings: The sweet taste of Love: Playfulness
I
Play with me
please play
take my hand
and hold me.
No
this isn’t your
hand
this isn’t my
hand
these hands
are ours
these kisses
are ours
and the line
between
you and me
touches and blurres
the violent frames
of our bodies.
II
Your unmovable body
sleeps
besides me
tired and exhausted
beautiful
with it’s
imperfections.
The curve
of your body
is soft and
falls down
on the bed
unmistakably
into your dreams
and you move
and hide
when I
turn around
and fall
asleep.
III
Awake and blurry
you're up,
running out,
I want to sleep.
I want to dream
and
close my
eyes.
I hear
how you
close
the door.
IV
Lying in my bed,
in our bed,
on your pillow.
I can smell
your scent.
It fills my mouth
with you.
It fills me
with us.
Your body
isn't here
anymore,
but the memory
of its presence
lingers
and touches
me.
No longer
in our bed,
I feel
the touch
of love.
By © Dolores Meden 2017
Play with me
please play
take my hand
and hold me.
No
this isn’t your
hand
this isn’t my
hand
these hands
are ours
these kisses
are ours
and the line
between
you and me
touches and blurres
the violent frames
of our bodies.
II
Your unmovable body
sleeps
besides me
tired and exhausted
beautiful
with it’s
imperfections.
The curve
of your body
is soft and
falls down
on the bed
unmistakably
into your dreams
and you move
and hide
when I
turn around
and fall
asleep.
III
Awake and blurry
you're up,
running out,
I want to sleep.
I want to dream
and
close my
eyes.
I hear
how you
close
the door.
IV
Lying in my bed,
in our bed,
on your pillow.
I can smell
your scent.
It fills my mouth
with you.
It fills me
with us.
Your body
isn't here
anymore,
but the memory
of its presence
lingers
and touches
me.
No longer
in our bed,
I feel
the touch
of love.
By © Dolores Meden 2017
My writings: The sweet taste of Love: Whispers
I
So thoughtful of you
to think of me.
So thoughtful of you
to remember me.
So thoughtful …
My thoughts
are also thoughtful.
My thoughts
considering you
but my words
are numb
and my acts
are motionless
and my way to
act is longer
than the unmeasurable
distance between
my dream and you.
II
A window
a window into
you
is what I ask for
not your love.
It would be
too much
too greedy
and I’m
not greedy.
A window
where I can
look at you
where I can
reach you
and it’s
alright
and we are
alright.
III
The difference between
now and then
my dream and reality
is hard to grasp
is hard to confess
even
when my hand suddenly
touches you
almost on its own
almost as an act
of confession.
I sit beside you
and hear your
voice.
IV
I look at you
silently
when you lean
your head
on my shoulder
and put your hand
on my thigh
with the fingertips
on the edge of my knee.
I hear
how you breathe
almost unnoticeable
and I wonder
if you hear
how my heart
whispers....
By © Dolores Meden 2017
So thoughtful of you
to think of me.
So thoughtful of you
to remember me.
So thoughtful …
My thoughts
are also thoughtful.
My thoughts
considering you
but my words
are numb
and my acts
are motionless
and my way to
act is longer
than the unmeasurable
distance between
my dream and you.
II
A window
a window into
you
is what I ask for
not your love.
It would be
too much
too greedy
and I’m
not greedy.
A window
where I can
look at you
where I can
reach you
and it’s
alright
and we are
alright.
III
The difference between
now and then
my dream and reality
is hard to grasp
is hard to confess
even
when my hand suddenly
touches you
almost on its own
almost as an act
of confession.
I sit beside you
and hear your
voice.
IV
I look at you
silently
when you lean
your head
on my shoulder
and put your hand
on my thigh
with the fingertips
on the edge of my knee.
I hear
how you breathe
almost unnoticeable
and I wonder
if you hear
how my heart
whispers....
By © Dolores Meden 2017
My writings: The sweet taste of Love: Secrets
I
My pleasures are simple
a cup a tea
a book
or a movie
and dreams of you
not that you
know that
not that
I want you
to know that
and I really
don’t want
you to know.
I love the
feeling of you
and the knowledge
that you don’t know
my dreams of you.
II
I caught
your smile
when you
didn't notice.
I put it
in a jar.
A jar
full of
stolen smiles.
I blush
and answer
your question
and think
about
the softness
of your lips
and the taste
of your mouth.
I whisper
to myself
an unspoken
word
and hope
it will
make you
smile.
III
I phoned you
and said that I’m
running late
but I didn’t.
I was hiding
behind the corner
and hoping
that you wouldn’t
see me.
I wanted
to look
at you
when you
didn’t know.
I wanted
to see
your beauty
without your
knowledge.
I know
it sounds
weird
but
you’re so
beautiful
that I can’t
look at you
when I’m
with you
and then
I only want
to be
your friend.
IV
As long
as the secret
is mine
you are mine.
If I speak
and
you say
no
my heart
will break
and
my dream
will break
and
I will
break
and I don’t
want that …
By © Dolores Meden 2017
My pleasures are simple
a cup a tea
a book
or a movie
and dreams of you
not that you
know that
not that
I want you
to know that
and I really
don’t want
you to know.
I love the
feeling of you
and the knowledge
that you don’t know
my dreams of you.
II
I caught
your smile
when you
didn't notice.
I put it
in a jar.
A jar
full of
stolen smiles.
I blush
and answer
your question
and think
about
the softness
of your lips
and the taste
of your mouth.
I whisper
to myself
an unspoken
word
and hope
it will
make you
smile.
III
I phoned you
and said that I’m
running late
but I didn’t.
I was hiding
behind the corner
and hoping
that you wouldn’t
see me.
I wanted
to look
at you
when you
didn’t know.
I wanted
to see
your beauty
without your
knowledge.
I know
it sounds
weird
but
you’re so
beautiful
that I can’t
look at you
when I’m
with you
and then
I only want
to be
your friend.
IV
As long
as the secret
is mine
you are mine.
If I speak
and
you say
no
my heart
will break
and
my dream
will break
and
I will
break
and I don’t
want that …
By © Dolores Meden 2017
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