sylviasearcher

A Love Poem



So when you have finished

Choking me with your so-called love

And tell me I am all you want

Does it occur to you

My last breath

Was taken 

Long 

Long

Ago

 

Doll like

In a musical box

Open me up

Wind the key

Watch me dance

To your tune

At your will

 

Is this love?

You tell me so

 

And I ache as I see

How much you love 

The dancing doll

 

How you like

To bend her

Break her

 

Keep her

 

She tried to leave

But you twisted her arm

To stay

 

Noone will ever love

A demented

Twisted

Dancing doll

 

At least that is what you whisper

As you tell her

How much you love her 

Everyday

 

And I reply

I love you too

Because that's all

A dancing doll can say

Comments7

  • dusk arising

    Good fun analogy. Begs the question why somebody should choose to behave like a doll in a musical box unless they have 'victim' imprinted on their soul.
    A song entitled 'fifty ways to leave your lover' comes to mind.

    • sylviasearcher

      It\'s an interesting idea.

      Are people born victims?
      Do they choose it?
      Who is the victim?
      Who is the perpetrator?

      Thanks for reading.

    • Unsub

      sylvia,

      sad piece of being trapped as someone's property.

      A victim's tale for sure.

      Really enjoyed the emotional atmosphere & misery drenched approach.

      Unsub.

    • sylviasearcher

      Oh I love a misery drenching 🖤🙄

    • sylviasearcher

      Oh?

      • sylviasearcher

        Just so long as you don't get caught in drama?

      • Michael Edwards

        Great meter and structure - well written Sylvia

      • Claudelle DeLuna

        Great poem! Sylvia
        I enjoyed reading it and the story is controversial but it can have many angles to be viewed from. Perhaps more than victim and perpetrator is about knowing that the grass ain't greener anywhere else either.
        Blessings,
        :)

        • sylviasearcher

          Thanks as always for reading and comments Claudelle.

          I have been awake half the night thinking about the notion of when a person is or becomes a victim. I hsve half a dozen poems in my head and a sickly feeling in my throat.

          I think of the poem above the final line us a resignation to the role she is in because the essence of any other choice is lost.

        • H. Ray Davis

          I pray that’s not auto biographical. Very nice, but heavy poem



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