Impossible

Is it possible that only I know the scent of us
A perfume of love and need and desire and greed
Is it possible that only I know the glow of us
A sheen of lust and hope and joy and peace
Is it possible that only I know the ache of us
A breaking of joining and losing and separating and becoming one

Ours

But I am not yours
And you are not mine
And those small luxuries,
They are not ours

Goodbye

I was not the kind
Who could survive goodbye
The remains of my heart
Could not take the pain
There was simply not enough left
And so I too crumpled
Torn to pieces too small to survive
And the remains of me
Are no longer enough

On being a woman

I'm a woman. We're ridiculous and petty and temperamental and emotional and bitchy and need more love and attention than can ever be given