Left Hand
They want you quiet,obedient.
Minding your manners.
Remembering your place.
They lie if they tell you different.
They are the boss, the commanders.
The proprietor of the estate.
You will never work as hard as they do.
Their job is always more demanding.
Yours is just a hobby to pass the time.
If they tell you different, it’s to pacify you.
It’s beneath them to be understanding.
You will never be an equal in their mind.
To them you are inferior, weak.
To them you are not special.
They do not care about you.
You are not worth their time or energy.
You are a burden, a let down.
You’re “in a pinch she’ll do”.
You just exist.
Present in a world that isn’t a gift to you.
You’re just a face in a crowd.
You could disappear and not be missed.
This should be something you’re used to.
Being without the right, no power, no clout.
They have the upper hand.
Rights given to them by majority vote.
They get to be who they choose.
Say or do what they please, without remand.
This should be something you already know.
Something you should be accustomed to.
The deck is stacked against you.
The rules are set in stone.
This is the law of the land.
If they tell you different, it’s not the truth.
Swallow your nerve, bite your tongue.
Or…..
Be a rebel and take back your left hand.
Forever & Always
On the edge of twenty one.
I was young, wild, and free.
Harming no one but myself with good times and whiskey neats.
He was there too, so available but unattainable.
The attraction was strong, undeniable.
Chemistry between us so hot, electrifying, flammable.
We were friends at first, then lovers at a later date.
Wild rides together on dirt roads, back seats, and tailgates.
His blue eyes and toothy grin made my body ache.
“I’d go anywhere with you.”, from the bottom of his heart.
Moonshine soaked nights, forgetting where we parked.
Strolling down Royal Street, looking for that bar.
Walking through that corn field because I never had before.
All the passionate fights, racy nights, and the time we broke the head board.
We created something there isn’t words for.
On the edge of thirty three.
Still young, wild, and free.
He’s there too. Forever & always. Undeniably.
Heart of Gold
A heart of gold, I’m told.
Too bad I can’t sell it.
It is a heavy heart, breaks me apart.
Difficult to carry.
A possessive, possession that I possess.
How did I acquire such a thing?
I am nothing special.
Nothing extraordinary.
Just incomplete.
Always a penny short.
A day late past the due date.
An unprepared human at best.
With a silly, golden heart.
Not a put together, cookie cutter,
Ironed out, dream.
A beautiful picture of perfection.
That‘s a hand I’ll never hold.
No privilege in my back pocket.
My shade of white is invaluable.
Poor and undeserving.
Similar to the gold I carry around,
it has proven to be quite useless.
But just as heavy.
My burdens to bear.
I have myself to thank.
For I am the master of my fate.
The founder of my misfortune.
The creator of my negative balance.
I owe the world more than it owes me.
Misguided.
Misunderstood.
Mistaken.
Taken for granted.
Lost in the world.
Lost in the search.
A search for a man.
Not just any man, but a metal one.
A hollow tin one.
The one that needs a heart.
He’s in luck.
I’m told mine is made of gold.