SassyStephB Poetry

I saw the sand and thought it was the desertBut I was on the beachI ran towards the waterand that is what healed me.

I still pine for youI want you outside my doorlike John Cusack with a boombox above your headdeclaring your loveBut then I’m remindedthat your bucket wasn’t big enoughto hold all I offered

So, I let a single tear drop and went back to tending to my flowerscause I know they will grow for me.

Whenever I think about youI envision a celebrity death match type feud

In the ring I grab you by your eye sockets and pull your body in half,And laugh as I watch your guts spill out.

No doubt it would be a gruesome fight.The audience cheering at your plight.

A cheese grater, a dynamite.A bowling ball dropped from a ridiculous height.The cartoon revenge montage that ends with you bandaged upwith birds flying around your head.

I see us as Wiley E Coyote and the road runner, cause I’m just a bird.You keep setting traps for me, and they keep turning back on you.

I see you flat as a pancake on the roadcause you tried to paint a cave on the side of mountain thinking would crash but i just ran through

I see you blown up by your own TNT.

And as the commentators discuss how hard it must have beento fall in your own traps,I just laugh.

Meep meep and run off again.

I thought we could be friends.We are all women after all,fighting the same oppressive systems.or

so I thought

It seems that you are fine hierarchyespecially when it benefits your desires and needs.

But alas,a claymation death match is alright with mecause fiction mimics reality. I still win. Im the champion.

Make love to me again the way that you did when you thought it was our last time. The way you kissed me, the way you stared into my eyes, The whispers of I love you as you said goodbye.as I lay between your thighs.That last time together, with you on top of me, rocking your hips rhythmically, with your groans of pleasure coming in from a deep place. whispering thank you as I came with you. We lay there…breathless. your head on my chest. Me, wondering what’s next.You get up, and I get up toocleaned up, dressed upromance on snooze.As you shared your news.You wouldn't return.Your eyes looked like deep pools. I could see the tears you held back. And I still yearn for those quiet moments on the couch.Your notebook in hand, taking meticulous notes. Your legs thrown over mine. Just sitting with me, not asking anything of me.And I’m content, cause you’re just so pretty.

My want song

My want song has slipped into a whisperAs life continues to beat me downI dared to desire more than what was offered to meAnd now I’m crying endlessly. Wishing I had never got to see what I could be and who I could be.I wish I had never had the audacity to think it could be me.Maybe if I accept that the life I want will only ever be fiction. I will be more willing to settle for what has come in.

Insane

Naked in the streets of ValenciaA Hail Mary that I don’t know.The queen has lost her clothes and has lost her mind.What is left of her dignity? Her crown is gone. They stole her homeBecause to them, suffering is the point.Being joyful..That makes you insane.It’s the reason she doesn’t want to be perceived. The reason why she doesn't want people to have opinions or beliefs about her.Look what they did to Jesus, for daring to believe that GOD cares and is active in our realities. That notion is clearly insanity.Take the abuse. That’s your only use. It’s why you were made. Not wanting that …Well, that would be insane.

Psychosis

Chest, arms, and legs bound in a hospital bed. Yet another crucible, wishing I were dead. A snack and a nap aren’t enough.I want revenge. I want their heads on a spike.The bruise on my arm, from the restraints that were too tight.Is a reminder that things are not alright.Fight demons all night. trying not to cry.Test my thyroid hormone levels! This isn’t normal for me.My intelligence is all I have.I’m smart, not pretty.My faith is waning in the waitingWhat’s the cure for autoimmune disease?Psychosis has burned all my bridgesThere is nothing to go back to.But I’m too crazy to start anew. What is there to do?Hoping the work I put in is enough to open a doorof opportunity for me.It’s still a wait-and-seeHow long can you go without going crazy?

What’s the point

I count each breath as joy, But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe each breath is grief, and it’s time to release, hoping for something different. One more dateone more job applicationone more poemone more drawingeach additional moment of rejection weighs heavily on the shoulders that already carry so much.No good deed goes unpunished, no kindness returned in love. No point in trying, no point in getting up.Sometimes I think I’m not meant for a world like this, one where there is no safety, where there is no love.. i’m so tired.I hold my breath, hoping I will pass out. I bang my head against the wall, hoping I can knock some sense into myself. I hear them saying, Go back to teaching. You’re not good at this.You’re really good with dogs and kids. Be the servant that you once were. No one wants your leadership. You can’t even lead yourself.Look at your judgment. The men you choose abuse and use, And yet you still want to date them? The jobs you apply to abuse you, too, telling you that you’re incapable and then continuing to profit from the work you do. Why don’t you just lie down and die? What is the point in continuing to try?Ambition is a lie.

I’m tired.

Did you love me too?

I go over that marriage in my head with a fine-tooth comb, over and over again. I couldn’t see what was happening to me in real time. I loved you; you were mine.I was focused on being the best wife I could beI got no reciprocity.Then I started focusing on healing me.Maybe if I am better. If I show him how I want to be treated. If I clearly express my expectationsMaybe things will change.But they never did. And I came to terms with it, packed your things, and ended it3 years later, your lawyers are still in my inbox. I hate you. I used to love you, but you didn’t love me too.We broke up two years ago And I still can’t get over you even though you were never in it with me. The breadcrumbs you offered a starving girl from a distancewas all I would receive.And even when I was with you… with my heart on my sleeveYou held me at arm’s length.swatting away my affectiontelling me, it will end.”I’m reading your book”. You say to me.My hopes are up again.Then I remember my marriage.Promises made, were promises broken.I won’t let you break my heart again.I don’t want to be friends.I don’t want to witness you breaking me down until I settle for the crumbs you are offering. Cause I was offering you everything. I loved you. But you didn’t love me too.No more bait and switch. After years as your dirty little secret.”We can start in two years”, you would say. “I told him I was your fiancée,” you explained , but you aren’t. You are a man who said You never want to live with a woman again, You want an open relationship where I stay loyal to you, Sleep with women for your entertainment, And you, you do what you want. I loved you, but you couldn’t love me too.

Poor Judgement

You have poor judgment. Who wants a woman like that at the helm of their lives? His voice rings in your head.stupid, useless, lazy, disgusting book smart but not street smart, too trusting. You have no friends. No one wants you around. You don’t even want you around. Your body is breaking down. All the effort you made to lose weight was lost in 1 month.

self-sabotage. Even the game maker hates you. Look what he allows to happen to you. rape, abuse, assault, theft, autoimmune disease PTSD, and psychosis to boot.Even the game maker doesn’t want you. Why would you expect that I would love you?

I dream of you dying each night, and the truth is, it makes me happy. It is the best dream that I have. I genuinely feel glad.Every night, I close my eyes and see myself standing over your embalmed bodyI’m gleeful and satisfied that you finally died.Til death do us part, I repeat. Smiling happily. That is sabbath to me.I later see myself in a bright yellow sundress attending your funeral.Laughing at the fact that you’re finally gone.I imagine me pissing on your grave, leaving you dog s**t for flowersand throwing a rave to celebrate.I’m so glad that you died.Now I can live my life.

From 2016-2023 you abused me.You tried to isolate and manipulate me.You’d get fired from jobs intentionallytrying to finally bind me.You called me useless and stupidwhile you stole painkillers and muscle relaxants.You yelled cuss words and epithets. You punched holes in the walls, and terrorized usand in your failure, to break me, you used the courts to cause problems in my life.You tried witchcraft to get your way, and you try to make my life hard. And somehow I’m still standing. So now that the boulder of your bad decisions is coming back around to crush you.I’m celebrating. Congrats! The universe yells to me. Él ha fallado.And I’m thankful that vengeance is not mine. Cause if it was up to me…

I am a chef of love. I nightly make him feasts.I cover him in kissesAnd I work to tame his beast.He is a hungry dragon seeking to devourNothing can quench his hunger.He takes, and he takes, and he takes until the kitchen is emptyThen he yells at me for not providing a bigger feast.So, I do. More love, more grace, more food. turning up the temperature so he can feel my warmth, but still he isn’t satisfied with the things I provide.So one more time, I try. I cook him everything he says he needs, everything he says he loves. hoping he will finally see that he has won the jackpot of partners. Only to hear him say “ give me more”.

I look down, My cup is emptyI hit the floor, face buried in the rough carpet, asking GOD what happened. God said, " You entered the pattern again. I tried to warn you. That day when you looked at him and saw your ex, the one who hit you and called you stupid, that was a glimpse of what was ahead. I thought that would be enough to get you to leave. But you keep your heart on your sleeve. Here is the remedy. Stay close to me.follow my lead.I won’t let that pattern repeat.

He was really cute.I met him on Bumble, too.His 6-foot frame and his lips were insaneI did NOT control myself that day.One week later, we were throughA lie was his excuseI’m 21 he said, when his verified profile said 28.I accepted what he saidI wasn’t going to fight.He said he couldn’t do it And I said, “Alright “I blocked his number that very night.I see him around the neighborhood.He still looks goodBut what I understood from that lie that dayIs that he doesn’t have the will to stayAnd I am not a girl who will chase.So I pretend he doesn’t exist.like we never shared a kiss, like he did not text me each day, to make sure I was okay.And when he walks my way, I just shake my head and say”GOD, help me. I can’t today.”And he goes away.Like, what did you want me to do?Cry? lol.I just met you.My life was okay before you came, And, you knoe what, it remains that way.

I know your full name.I know when you were born and how many siblings you have.I know what kind of car you drive and the things that make you laughI know your favorite color and what makes you mad.Though you never told me.The perk of your celebrity.

I can go to see La morenita in peace, but you can’t.I can hike Montserrat on a whim, but you, you need a plan. I can go camping anywhere.You will need security there.I can run to my favorite grocery storeFor me, that’s a bore, but someone has to go for you.If that were my life, I might miss anonymity, too.

I don’t worry that my friends are using me or whether or not they’re loyal.I’ve had the same number since 2009 And don’t worry that I have to change it all the time.

I can call out your name in the nightand not be concerned about how many other girls are actively doing the same.They call you in the field of desire, eyes closed, with hands fanning the flame.I guess that’s the cost of fame.We all enjoy your art and know your name,and you just long for the days when you could go to a movie alone,Run to the beach with your family. But you can’t be completely free cause the stage is your gilded cage.

Sometimes I forgetthat I’m a wild one.I am the sun.

I don’t want your cages, your chains,Or your little handcuffs.I’ve had more than enoughof that stuff.

I’m just a birdwho loves to fly free.In this story, all things revolve around me.Main character energy.

Sometimes I forgetthat I’m the brilliant one.I am the sun.Are you the moon?

You seem to shine so brightly—but maybe you’re justreflecting my light back to me.

Sometimes I forgetI’m the strong one.I am the sun.

Bringing my light to humanitydespite the obstacles in front of me.And even when you tryto block my glow,I still shine bright.

Sometimes I forgetI’m the dope one.I am the sun.Everything I do is fire.I use my gifts to lift us higher—working to inspire.And I never tireof being spectacular.

Sometimes I forgetI’m the chill one.I am the sun.I go with the flow,drifting through the universe—not in a rush to get there first,just looking to get there.Fully aware of who I am.SomewhereI’m free to shineas bright as I can.

Sometimes I forgetthat I’m the one.I am the sun.And you—you are in my orbit.