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Sunday, January 22, 2012

With addiction
To a green plant
To a handsome man
To sweet white granules
To invisible white granules
To my own stubborn idealism

Part 1
Provided by the above
Fleeting, especially the man
Just when I think he's accepting
In my bed, like every night lately
(These words come out with tears)
Bodies, hands and eyes intertwined,
Just when wow, he got me a present,
Overjoyed. I smile, push closer to him
His soft hand runs lovingly down my arm
It takes hair off, as his hand runs up my arm

I feel shamed. Ugly. Freaky hairy. Don't touch me.
My mind spins. How could he? Again? I told him not to
Not to criticize me. Not to mock my white hair. To accept me.

I cry. Out loud. I shout and yell. Add shame.
He makes excuses. I wonder about me
Over-reacting? Or his gaslighting?
I'm so hooked, on the kissing,
The sex, the movies, dates,
The dinners, the showers,
Him missing me back,
Finally treating me
The way I asked
Him to.

And I know
That I won't stop.
And I wonder if this is abusive.
I wonder if I am one of those women.
Too blind to see that I'm being manipulated.

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