Elucidating Questions

Unlearning

The Queen said,

Fat, and unlucky. Terrible cook. Troublesome.

The things I have to do for you

And

Friendly reminder: Your being brings bad luck to those around you, making their lives worse.

The worst part is if I had told her she would have told me

Well, you agree

Of course I did I have the self-esteem of a rock thrown from the beach into the ocean forced to live among rocks I hadn’t seen for thousands of years that were once a part of me but don’t seem to be the same as me at all.

Sometimes I remember we’re all a part of the same

Distant

Bacterial ancestor

Sometimes people tell me I’ve improved their lives

And I don’t believe it because she told me

Every time something went wrong

It was either my bad luck, or her husband’s, which created the mishappening.

Its the little things we do that scar those around us

She was always criticising her breasts and despite the fact that I like them and voiced that often her own self hurting turned in and in her mind it was me who created it

Despite the fact that she used to bully me incessantly about being “flat as a board” and the various inbetweens.

Unlearning

Not going back to those times for advice or understanding because I know they lie

They all lie

Her and her clan

That I was unceremoniously removed from

Realising that trust is something given easily

And slowly but surely whittled away until it is a sharp stake

Which turns on its owner

And stabs directly into the chest

If I was a vampire this would be the fatal blow,

However since I am human I am immune.

Or so they say.

It’s an irony really

That I’m right

Because you’re right

Nothing will change if you never choose

But you wouldn’t choose

And you won’t choose

And the fact that simply choosing

Simply choosing

Could set you free

And you never even had to choose me

Sometimes it feels so wrong not to have a penis

And I dress myself

But other days she dressed me and I’m suddenly

It’s hard to have nothing running through

No chemical brovado

It’s so wrong

But she can’t be that

I couldn’t put her in the box so I could be comfortable

I couldn’t stop her from being alive so I could be alive

So we both live and she wonders

If there’s something wrong with her

Our shattered mind between us

Sometimes she dresses up so pretty and I see her/me in the mirror and

God she’s so pretty

But what the hell am I?

Sometimes she hears me and I watch with guilt as she turns that question into knives for herself

Finding herself fat and ugly instead of my finding her

Pretty obviously pretty much pretty soon

We’ve flipped and she doesn’t recognise my thought trailing behind

Only the way she felt coming into it

And the question remains

What are we?

Why?

How?

And I’m not crazy she’s not crazy you’re crazy

We function just fine without you

Except for the crushing loneliness

Except for the neverending alone time story

There are two crows

Sitting on the line across from me I look at them looking

And whomever remembers comes forward but in the endless river of

All alone

Tonight

Alone all

Alone tonight

Alone

Neither of us could pass the test of being asked

If we wished the other gone

Because I sure

Sure have

I sure have

Wouldn’t it be so much easier

Without the twins dancing in the dark

Waiting to be told we walked away

When we stand here

Fingers intertwined

Staring

Waiting

I remember standing there watching him walk by and then going back to the phone

I remember crying and thinking

God, it looks like I’m crying because he didn’t see me

I remember thinking

It would be better all made up put back together like he was the perfect salve if we’d met

Because my reality hurt so much

It would all be better

But instead I watched as he pulled away

If only one dream could come true

The strike of midnight

When there was no you

I saw the new departure

Stuck inside a hole waiting patiently to be let out

But the warrior grizzled and powerful stands outside

Why do you hate me?

Understandably misunderstood

As the bard sings her crow song fluttering through her lute

As the mage gathers power only for the better and to disperse

The bear comes over the hill

Never forgetting that the path is clearer in groups

And that under every dark king’s helmet is a scared and hurt little boy