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Prized Possession

If I had a man's love,
What would I do with it?
Will I take it everywhere with me?
Will I feed it?
Clothe it?
Nurture it?
Will I massage out it's knots?
Or will I beat out its kinks?
Will I cradle it?
Or will I rock it to sleep?
Will I swing it high?
To electrify its senses?

If I won a man's heart,
What will I do with it?
Will I keep it close and dear?
Will I stay away, lest it hurt?
Kick it?
Kiss it?
Will I sell if for a fortune?
Or give it to the homeless?
Will I frame it up to be admired?
Or will I safely tuck it under my dreams?
Will I hold it in my hand?
Just to I wear it on my sleeve?

If I gained a man's trust
What will I do with it?
Will I value it?
Treasure it?
Guard it?
Will I tell the world about it?
Or will I live with it alone?
Will I know it's true worth?
Or will it be a mundane fool?
Will I it stay with me forever?
Like the love they say never ends?

It must certainly be a rare prize to gain,
The love,
The trust,
The affection of a man
It has to be worth life's toils,
But, what will I do with something so precious,
If I was spared the fight
And chosen to win?



This is to the dirty old men souls out there,
Who are really just looking for one ride
Maybe two, three, as many rides as they can get
To moan with
And reminisce on
To feed their statistics
And pump their egos
This is to the slimy old dirtbags out there,
Who are here to stay,
For now, and to leave their memories behind
For me to relive
This is to those nasty old men
Who after life’s given them all they could ever want
Hunger and greed rules their hungry emptiness
And they seize what is not theirs

Whether clothed in the skin of a handsome promising jock
Or in the suit of a young entrepreneur, whose road is paved with gold promises
Or in that angel costume, a smile that melts the ice walls around my heart,
And grips my beating everything, in a grasps of self serving pride
Or maybe in the experienced lover, who has a lot to lose,
Plays the role of the generous giver,
Only there to help me reach my climax,
My three seconds of fame in a gripping moan
This is to you.

I raise my champagne glass,
Proud of my mistakes, and ashamed of nothing,
Not even my bare humanness
I toast to you,
Your success, in life
And your failures in love
I raise this to you,
For once I weeped,
Thinking you robbed me of my greatest gift!
An ode to you, because in my painful tears,
I saw the truth after the rain,
That I wasn’t unlovable,
Nor was I not good enough
Nor beautiful enough,
Nor not narrow enough
I find that the preciousness
In my elegant, classy step
Was my heart,
Wrapped up in selfless love
My pained hatred of the one gift He gave me,
Will bring me joy
I have learned that my hips will sway to the music of love
Held by the arms of my dream
That my world will be painted with the fingers of passion
And my fantasies will be my everyday life
I know that my smiles will never end,
Till they turn into the music of my laugh,
That the cries of the sucklers of my never drooping breasts
Will be cradled
And Nurtured,
And moulded
By the warmth of love

I know what to expect from my greatest desire,
Because you gave me nothing to smile about.