I had hoped to be wanted and wanton,
free of the cage that is built around me, a tight brown box that no longer fits my expanded soul.
Just wanton and wanted for a few hours, hair down, blouse unbuttoned, one shoe on, not contained,
hard hands that want me on my soft body.
I don’t like this feeling.
I am rejected, fallen from my hopeful horse.
Maybe just by circumstance, but the result is the same,
Pushed down in the sticky mud again, not as good as I thought I was.
Not me all noble in defeat, doing that stoic thing, water off of a duck’s back,
the quiet dignity of the loser.
This doesn’t fit me at all.
I would rather scream for all to hear it – not me, not again, not fair, no,
Just no.
Fuck this.
I had hoped to be wanted and wanton,
for a few short hours.
Hands that want me on my soft body.
I wanted; before it’s too late;
time approaches and passes.
