poem: depressed downward key – 08/03/22

© Lauren M. Hancock
my key is permanent, it’s on the left side of me,
the side which I spoke of in my metaphoric language
of how
I don’t need a man
and time is always on my side
I am independent
I will never need another’s fate, nor abilities.

But it’s no longer on my side, my love,
and the key, wrong place, wrong inked time,
and I need this man, and I guess,
perhaps he needs me, too,
pity I seem like the fool.

Not as a soulmate, not as a kindred spirit,
but just a best friend.
Just? Is that not good enough?
Maybe it’s not, but
it’s the best that I’ll receive?
Is this truth? If so, to digest it, it’s rough.

These deeply personal thoughts collect in my head,
should not be visually recorded, I should not post nor project
but I need to get them down, out,
I feel like I’ve cut myself off for a man who even doesn’t
recognise my true crown.
Not the visual, but the spiritual.
The swirling, the colours, all around.

This logical, not even subliminal hurts,
I am not in the throes, no, I am not,
I need much more, damnit, but how much more
can I demand before I’m cut off,
no more love, whatever style,
from his hand?
Complaining? I am more than enough.

I used to be so independent and pretty
now I’ve grown dependent, an ugly being,
hand-holding baby,
where is the prized confidence?
Where am I now?

Am I assumed to be unworthy, betrayer,
there goes my crown?
These tainted thoughts, I must succeed, at tactically
beating them down.
© 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
08/03/22
Original photo by myself, (c) 2022.

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