Queen of Hearts

10 Minute Poem Challenge

 

QUEEN OF HEARTS

You tell me you want to keep our love alive

I tell you I want to be free

You want me to hold your hand

Until you’ve decided to be rid of me

You think that you have the advantage here

Your game so neatly played

You have counted on that fistful of hearts

Resting so neatly in your hand

To win this lovers game

You’ve used your charms quite nicely

Much like a card-counting pro

You think you hold all the cards

But I am now a worthy foe

The surety of my love for you

You mistakenly believe

Binds me to you forever

And to the rules of this game

But now I hold something more important

Than your Queen of Hearts

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Confident she’ll win the game

Thinking you have me beat

But I hold onto my dignity tightly

And play this hand so sweet

In the guise of the lowly 2’s

I use them 2 walk away

2 reject the “love” you feel for me

2 let peace fill my heart

2 feel my emotions again

2 laugh in the face of disappointment

2 love deeply even if it is not you

And instead of loving the game

That we are used to playing

I find a new understanding

That I hold the cards this time

And the heart no longer rules

But bends to the lowly 2

So I lay down my hand

And  quickly walk away

No longer do I turn and look back

I keep my eyes straight ahead

For I have finally won this hand

The game is surely dead

There are no winners here

No winner take all

But finally I have found myself

And once again stand tall

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While The Cat’s Away…

Okay, if I am honest here the whole “DRESS UP FOR YOUR MAN” thing weirds me out a little, especially at my age.  When I was 20 I could pull it off because…well…I was 20! Yet, as a feminist dressing up for a man often feels degrading and so out-datedly contrived. And as a mother.. yuck…just yuck…thinking that someday the men in my three daughter’s lives will be oglingimages-9 them as they flounce about in an effort to try to please their husbands.imgres

 

Yet, I do recognize the fact that men are visual creatures and that after being married for so many years that sex can become a tad boring imgres-2 unless you do something to spice it up a bit. But what to wear without looking like a chubby little schoolgirlgirls-skipping-school-costume that really sends a really perverted message?images-14 It is always a dilemma for a not-so-skinny 50 + year old woman. images-18

 

So I decided while the cat’s away this mouse will play…with different styles of sex-wear. I’m starting with the easiest first…stockings.

Frankly, I was surprised at the variety of stockings that are available these days. When I was 20 years-old fishnets were really risque and only the “bad” girls wore them. Now perhaps I should have been “bad” a little more often so I have decided to regress and try these on for size.

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I mean seriously if these don’t catch a man’s eye he is stone cold dead.images-3 But frankly, it would be helpful if the manufacturer included a tutorial on how to put these on so the seam goes STRAIGHT up the back of your legs instead of swerving side to side like a cheap drunk.

FISHNETS have come a long way baby! My oh my, the choices are mind numbing these days. Bows, lace, and streamers are now standard fishing gear allowing you to reach even lower depths than before.

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I have to stop here to confess that I’ve always wondered why these types of stockings are called fishnets. (Yes, those ARE the crazy questions that keep my mind spinning out of control) Yet, as I wrote this, it occurred to me that wearing fishnets have one purpose and one purpose only….trolling for fish… and once you catch that fish in your net it is yours until you decide to throw it back. In this case, size really does influence that decision.

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I never knew until today that you could buy stockings with writing on them. What a great idea! I know a lot of women who would like TALK TO MY LAWYER climbing the back of their legs as they were walking away from their cheater husbands. zu6932816_main_tm1388876938YOU DON’T DESERVE ME and FUCK YOU would probably be other popular choices.

 

There are also the RICH BITCH hose. I propose that any woman who wears these sparklers should demand a real diamond for each of the fake ones that grace her legs.zu6295865_main_tm1390849776

 

 

Then there are the WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST thigh highs. zu6369623_main_tm1385773170You’ll have to buy your own flying monkeys if you want to add an element of danger to your sex life.

There are also the sentimental I LOVE YOU type of nylons.zu20591130_main_tm1414434537 Somehow I imagine this just wouldn’t look good on a 50+ year-old broad and I shudder to think of being in a car accident and having the paramedics cutting them off with an onslaught of rubberneckers witnessing this kinky event. I am sure that those paramedics would never be able to work again due to the trauma they had endured.

Finally, a burning question that I have always had is this… do stockings go with flats? I have bad knees and wearing shoes like the models wear  would bring me to my knees which, I confess, is probably where my husband would like to see me, if you know what I mean. But seriously, doesn’t it look like something is missing here?    images-22

So I am off to the store for some sexy seven story high stilettos, a knee brace, and a tube of Ben Gay. I  can only hope that I don’t fall off of them as I greet B at the door wearing almost nothing but a red face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IF

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If I was an oarsman…I would paddle through stormy oceans

To bring you back to me

If I was an engineer…I would shovel the coal and steam full speed ahead

To bring you back to me

If I was a pilot…I would fly around the world searching

To bring you back to me

If I was a a trucker…I would pay the tolls

To bring you back to me

If I was a mailman…I would apply as many stamps as needed

To bring you back to me

If I was in the Special Forces…I would hack my way through jungles

To bring you back to me

But I am none of those

And incapable of bringing you anywhere

You have to walk to me

On your own two feet

Of your own volition

With love in your heart and strength in your eyes

You have to plumb the depths of your soul

To figure out

Who you are to yourself, to me, and to our children

And where you want to be

You have to make the decision

To find me again or not

For I am here with empty arms

Waiting to see…

If you will choose the hard path or the easy one

If you will honor your vows

If you will be here because you want to be

If you will be the man I used to know

If you will allow yourself

To fall in love again

With me and all that I represent

And know this

If you choose to walk away

I will not take you back

So be sure what you are doing

Will bring you the happiness that you

Are sure that you are missing

And know that we will all be forever changed

As you search for what you think is out there

No oarsman, pilot or trucker now needed

To bring you back to what you already had

That is now gone…forever

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STANDING ON THE OUTSIDE

As you stand on the outside

Looking in

You will see that I still have

A smile on my face

And deep love in my heart

Our children will still laugh

And I will still sing

With you firmly on the outside of our lives…

As you stand on the outside

Looking on in

You might see a new man

Being the father to your children

That you swore you would always be

Yet, he is with them now

And he is with me

A woman still capable of happiness and great love

He was lucky enough to find me

And smart enough to know a treasure when he saw one…

As you stand on the outside

Looking in

You will see your reflection in the glass

Will you like what you see?

Will you be proud of what you have done?

Or will you wish

That you had been wiser

And realized that your perfect ideal of a “happy” life

Was just a fantasy that never came true

As you searched for greener pastures elsewhere

And you gave up something

Rare and beautiful

For nothing…

As you stand on the outside

Looking in

On everything beautiful

You once had

But didn’t appreciate

Will you appreciate it now

That you are standing on the outside

Excluded and alone?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

California Dreamer

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I am not a dreamer…at least not in the bedroom. I rarely dream during the night. My hypothesis for never reaching REM is that at my age I wake up three times a night to readjust my knee which wakes me up screaming and I get out of bed about five times a night to pee. I guess I should count my blessing that I don’t pee the bed yet but frankly at this point it just might be easier. What I do know for a fact is that all this up and down stuff adds up to a terribly disrupted sleep resulting in a state of dream denial. Until last night…

Last night I dreamt I was some sort of secret agent. A Jamie Bond type of girl if you will. I was thin (loved this dream just for that), younger (ditto), classy and looked exceedingly hot in a long dress with stilettos. There were bad guys, gorgeous girls whom I was trying to save, and then there was B. Yes, B! How he got into this dream I will never know but he did save me from the bad guy (wonder what Freud would say about that!) and then he promptly disappeared never to be seen again. (Ditto the Freud thing) It was comforting to think that he would save my life instead of taking the insurance money and skipping off with one of those other younger women with whom he would have sex three times a day…yet… where did he go?

Anyway, eventually, I found the missing “save the world” chip and slipped it under the skin in my foot, not bleeding a drop. I was amazing…and then I woke up to find I was 30 pounds overweight and wearing flannel. (No, Violet, it wasn’t flannel pajamas but a flannel I am testing for warmth on our trip to Tibet)

Now you may be wondering why I am writing an oddly disjointed post about dreams. It’s selfish really. I am wanting you to interpret my dream for me so I know what to do with the rest of my life…cause frankly I haven’t a clue. One can only hope in a moment of clarity you will find some answers for this girl who is California Dreaming.