It isn't very good, but I felt like I should write a Valentine's poem!
... I've never actually written a poem for Valentine's day. Here goes!
(Did what I could with expletives.)
no title
Nothing ever changes with you.
I come home from work
Smelling like cornbread
And kitchens that I don’t even
Want to be in ninety-nine point nine percent of the time,
But I’m the only one doing any godd*mn work around here,
Paying any bills,
Bringing home any groceries.
When I come in, you barely move from your position
On the couch.
You glance at me,
Away from the TV
And some show that has you
So transfixed.
I wait.
“Well?”
You look away.
We’ve been distant.
And it’s Valentine’s Day,
But I don’t dare remind you.
What would you say, anyways?
You were never very good with words.
“Have you eaten?”
You’re gone -
Probably to take a sh!t.
I sigh and began to prepare your food-
I’m so sick of food,
I deal with food all day -
F*ck it, you’re getting leftovers.
I heat up the remnants of last night’s dinner
And set it out for you.
“I’ve already eaten,
So you’re on your own.
I’m going to read a
Romance novel
With erotic sex scenes –
Not that you care.”
I call out.
I run a bubble bath and settle in
With a glass of wine.
You watch me by the door,
Half-disinterested, half-expectant.
“What is it?” I snap.
You grumble and go to the kitchen
Where I hear you indulge.
Forty-five minutes later I’m parked on the couch
Stuffing my mouth with Rocky Road.
You stare at me in disgust.
“What? What the f*ck is it?
I weigh 101 pounds, cut me some
F*cking slack.”
You’re on the other end.
I’m here.
What happened to us?
I’m lonely.
“You’re practically useless,” I say to him
My mind a million miles away
On the bachelor next door,
The co-worker at the restaurant,
That one guy from the grocery store.
You start in surprise.
I wipe away a tear that has nothing
To do with Humphrey Bogart
But everything to do with you -
No, maybe a bit with me as well.
“I just wish…”
You look at me,
As if you want to say it as
Badly as I do.
“I just wish you would at least…”
You come over, treading carefully,
And – Valentine’s miracle –
Push your head up under my palm.
I rub behind your ears just like
You used to like it.
You still do.
You purr.
I shove the bowl aside and
Scoop you up into my arms,
And a million things that have been
Left unsaid between us
Spills out.
“I’m sorry I’m never here. ”
Purr.
“You’re better now with more-”
Purr.
“- Meat on your bones, you know –“
Purr.
“-And Mrs. Tilbit is feeding you well. “
Purrrrr.
“- One day,
One day,
We’ll have the little house – “
Purr.
“We’ve always wanted,
And it’ll be you and I,
And the books.
And I’ll be the perfect lady,
And you’ll be the perfect cat –
Don’t give me that face,
You have your imperfections.”
...Purr.
“Cervantes,”
I say to you,
You look up at me now
As you used to.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
And I kiss his rough little nose.
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