It’s the good ones that hurt you,
they wound you on accident.
They expose their dreams to you
over drinks, or after sex.
Because all their gates are opened
and conversations are fluid.
But the fears that cling
to all the good stories,
slink in, from underneath.
While we lay there, making patterns
out of the stains upon our ceilings.
When we’re starved for a solution,
of fighting back love, during sex.
She could have had ten lovers,
or one long husband named Ex.
But she’s here now, in your bed,
with a secret that she’s never admitted.
None ever figured out
that she’s a ballerina in her head.
-That there’s a room
somewhere behind her eyes,
where she dances
like she always wanted to.
Where her arms are over her head
and her toes are pointed,
pushing her away from the floor.
-Where no man was needed for such things.
It was just her, and a lilting song
that promised her “someday”.
It never stops playing.
It’s those good ones that hurt you.
Because you felt safe
and so you left your doors open.
She danced right in
as neither of you knew it.
And now you have a melody
so new to you, stuck in your head.
She didn’t mean to.
You can’t blame anything
on the good ones.
They carry the lineage of fair maidens.
And you, the timeless knight,
trying to be strong and brave,
hoping that you’re good enough,
to slay the dragons of her misfortunes.
-Of crumbled men,
who only leaned on walls,
or else they’d fall in heaps,
and leave her unbalanced, alone,
standing center stage.
When it was her time to shine.
Those same men,
who could never apologize right.
-Always someone else’s fault.
Because they thought
all girls wanted to be barbies
when they grew up.
No, some days women
feel like ragdolls.
So they prop themselves up
and go through the motions,
wearing high heeled shoes
that make their toes point
like a ballerina’s.
Ragdolls like to dance too.
They like to be lifted
by your mouth on their mound.
-Fairer maidens never say it,
but they watch your lips as you talk.
They listen for the longest words
that you know.
They want you to line those words up
along the rope of your tongue
and make syllables, vowels,
shoot out of their own mouths;
exclamations formed below.
When the good ones let go,
they can’t help but break off
an edge of their psyche.
Then, it pins itself to your chest.
You won’t even know it
until later, when you’re alone
and something is different.
Because you sigh heavy,
towards the direction
of where she had been
on your bed.
-What just happened
and where did she go.
In your head.
the ballerina and the ragdoll comparison to women was written beautifully. Always on the tip toes but at times need a wall to lean against to keep you up right.
Hello Fia!
I think some men take it for granted that women are human. Really. My using ragdoll had a purpose, in that it does indeed mean a collapse.
Thank you, too, for the feedback.
hello dearest Styxian I love how you talked about her hanging on every word and vowel… so rich is your languag you can’t help but lift her this is beautifully poignant ❤️
I have a tendency to watch their lips, when someone is talking to me. It helps me understand them better. But, in this write it has more of a sensual purpose, obviously!
Thank you Crims. I’m still trying to post some decent stuff, so thanks for letting me know it’s not bad.
Hahaha, we’re getting a blend of soft core and hard core beautifully woven within this piece. We love the way that you flipped things showing your versatility and still kept it clean. Tight
Well, ragdoll actually has an extra subtle meaning, in certain scenarios… When someone goes limp.
And I wanted to show that even the good ones have needs, like we all do.
Thanks a bunch!
Passionately penned, Mark. This is an excellent write full of deep wonderful layers my friend. Always enjoy your storytelling my brother. Another amazing read. Appreciate you.
Damian
Hey dude! I’m trying! And yes, this one has a layer of depth, so to speak. Thanks Damian.
Damn…the ragdoll analogy just knocked me on my ass. Some of us feel more ragdoll than ballerina all the time, and never a Barbie. I will say, as a girl who loved dolls, ragdolls are more resilient though, Barbies break easily. I love the quiet messages whispering through this
I burned my sisters’ barbies, when I was a kid. They were older than me and mean sometimes. So i got my revenge. LOL.
And yeah, I like to take a somewhat subtle approach to erotica, usually. I’m more about what feelings and emotions are going on, than the action sequences. I leave that to those who are brave, I guess?
Thank you, Willow.
There’s a level of intimacy conveyed with compassion and understanding
that effortlessly flows through your poetic verbiage, speaking to the human condition
like none other. Standing ovation all around
Much respect
Naaj
That’s quite the comment, Naajir. Thank you for that. Like I said to Willow, it’s about the emotions more than the action, when I write. It makes us people, yaknow?
I agree with Willow.
Ragdolls are more resilient. They might get scuffed up and look weathered over time but they are still together. Even if by some chance they do get torn apart, they can be sewn back together with new material or a different color of string. And maybe they can sew it themselves and choose a variety of colors or patterns we’ve always dreamed of.
Love this piece!
Although when I was little I did get the Barbie car!! Haha
Well damn, you got the whole doctor your ragdoll down pretty well! Ragdoll is also a term used when someone goes limp, like their bones are softened. So there’s a little extra meaning when i used that terminology.
Of course you got the barbie car! And now you drive a rocket ship! What!
Dear M,
I really enjoyed the analogies and storyline in this piece. The fragility of life and that sacred place in our heads where we go to live out our safety dreams was wonderful the way you expressed it. This was enthralling and emotionally moving. While I’d love to be ballerina Barbie I find more mental flexibility in being raggedy Ann. Lovely write. H🌷
Awesome comment, H. And hey, good to see you onsite!
I edited the write a tiny bit. I took out where it said “still” in the lines where it mentioned ballerinas, etc. Because for many, it never comes to fruition, it stays just thoughts. I myself am a clutz. And I’m sure there ae more like me. LOL.
Your presence is a blessing.
and the ground shook beneath me as I danced too!!
Absolutely felt this with everything inside me🤍
Hello
Thank you very much for your comment. It’s good to know when our writes can have an effect on a reader. Obviously we all are here for the celebration of creative writing. So thanks for the acknowledgement of my effort. It’s appreciated.
I was the kid who made “Weird Barbies”, complete with permanent marker makeup…
But anyway, your poem — gosh I love your writing. You seem to have a way of really seeing people, and all the various dancing, flopping dolls that they are in their heads. What a gift. And well… the subtle erotica… what a lovely addition. Three cheers!
❤️k
Hey stranger!
And I love your very generous comment! I try hard to make my writes worth the reader’s time. It does matter. And your comment lets me know that it is worth the effort, so thank you!
So, what are you posting of yours? Hmmmm
I am posting daily on Substack this month for Ahavati’s NaPo! But tonight is the first time I’ve remembered this place for a while, and yes – I will share some here too, stay tuned. I wish I could keep up with things here but for some reason I find it a struggle!
I think Substack is going to become my main creative hub for both poetry & music. I can’t handle spreading myself thin over all the possible places, unfortunately.
I hear ya. There are a couple of other sites I dipped in. But like you, it’s a bit much to keep up with many. A guy has to have a life away from all this sometimes! LOL