Her Dirty, Vulgar WordMature

Free-verse poetry depicting a sequence of relationships and affections.

No subliminal rejection,

Thought you had me near.

But conditional affection,

Is quick to disappear.


I wish to take the way I felt,

Capture it in your empty bottle,

Put it on low a shelf,

And step away by my self.


And later back to where I knelt,

Without your thoughtless throttle.

A bottle... corked by reluctance,

Will never forget a heart's inductance.


That's where I will draw the line,

Staring at that bottle of wine.

Start to think,

I don't drink!


What'll I do with vintage affection?

Ain't the kind o' thing where I find a connection!

A lesson I should have learned before.

You lay there looking up, expecting lust.

Was I just another thrust?

Wondering when I'd fall near.

Looking at me like I was another score.

There's a word that rhymes here, and I won't say it!


It's a vulgar, dirty word.

I never said it, despite all I heard.

Maybe because I heard it from you?

Oh, though, I heard him say it too.


He loves you with it like a whip,

Each hand upon a hip.

He says it again and again,

But it doesn't hurt.

That vulgar, dirty word.

I think it's absurd!


Degradation loves you.

It's your foundation,

Your docking station.


That paints you in a new hue.


You expected me to stick around,

Even with that something new.

Thought I'd turn the other cheek.

Ignore the lover in your bed.

Such is the way of the meek.

You thought I didn't care.

What's gotten into your head?


It's true.

A horrible thing you'd dare.

It's true I didn't care.

But the veil of lies,

Brings tears to my eyes.


You thought I'd be relieved of obligations,

Despite and because, of all his penetrations.

Compersion? More like perversion!

At least you know I'll never scoff.

It's not about your vice,

But all the others that entice.

There are things that just aren't nice!

That's why I broke it off.


You were a different person when I fell for charm,

I waiting too long and now you've come to harm.

The influence of no affluence,

Sadly comes to play.

The absence, of parents.

The untreated mental state,

Fucked on only the first date.

Bipolar, gettin' older.

Grieve 'til you heave,

Never to achieve.

Yes, your Mom and Dad are dead.

But what's gotten into your head?

Didn't think you were naive.

And then there are the drugs,

You answered with far more than shrugs.

Always stoned, while hoping to be boned.

Seven men in twice as many months,

And how many women?


Oh, wait,

That is none of my business.

Temptation, invitation.

But seduction just ain't your best function.

Yeah, great,

I'm not on the list.

This is one you've missed.

And that really makes you pissed.



Your mother's birthday comes, and you cut again.

You grieve for her still,

Never to forget, and always to abet.


What would your mother think of you?

A question I never, ever, asked.

I always wanted to.


I walk away and call myself a God damn self-righteous virgin,

Just to make you happy. Even though it's true.

Put my head against yours, and I felt shadow in your mind.

I should have told you I wasn't looking for flesh to grind.

And you should have told me, that romance wasn't you.



Now do you see, self-soiled orphan?

I wish I'd told you long ago.

About what I keep in that bottle.

The scars are so dark,

Your bed is so stark.

For now you are the vulgar word,

Always unheard, save during lust.

That, you call yourself.


I implore,

If a God is real, in any way, then this I pray:

Help the one who on this day,

Deluded and drugged away,

Calls herself whore.

Whore, whore, whore!


That dirty, vulgar word.

This dirty, vulgar world.

The End

6 comments about this poem Feed