Can’t tell you how many times I dipped myself in love potion like a fry by a ketchup-lover’s hand expecting ideal-love to just fall out of the sky and ravish me.
How many times girls’ night consisted of miserable company. Discussing the endless idiocy of men and why they never commit or call back. More than half holding their cellular devices in their desperate palms waiting for a vibration – a blasted phone call! And if the wrong person’s name and photo lit up the screen they’d either throw it across the room or damned it to Hade’s’ layer.
“All men cheat, you know?”
“They’re all fucking pigs.”
After being treated like dung by more than just some, I can see why women feel the way that they do. But to condemn all men because a handful of them were unfaithful in their lives?
Are we any better than pigs?
The nice guys seem to pay for all of the previous loves gone wrong.
Subconscious Devaluation by female eyes as they keep telling themselves “all men lie” but look him in the face and expel I love yous.
All some men ask for is alone time. A guy’s night here and there.
And I’ll admit, I used to be one of those desperate sorts, mistrusting of anything with a phallic piece. I wouldn’t let him be. I’d feel insecure, impregnated with worry that he’s on some other girl letting his man sweat unfurl all over her near-naked body.
The excessive need for constant validation, led to suffocation and the initial days of elation poofed out of existence.
Those men pulled away until that lasso broke and I never saw them again.
All this nonsense lead to my value lessening in their eyes. And would anyone in the right mind commit to a woman that values fears and criticisms more than she does herself or the man she wishes to spend quite possibly the rest of her days with?
And would a woman want to be with herself for even a minute if the stench of misery overpowered even the most potent smelling flower?
As for the men that claim
“All women are crazy bitches!”
Just wait until my next poem…
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Eva X. The Poetess – © Eva Xanthopoulos 2013.
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