lovely lies

once there was a truth between us
and then a lie,
then many more
’till we were lost along the way somewhere.

there once was love behind your eyes
but now we dance around the lies
as you pierce the very air
with the sharpened knives of your unremitting rage

the music starts
and my emotional museum
dredges up some dusty piece of trouble
from a basement closet that opens inward, but not out.
i blow off the dust,
shine up the lies,
and my precious good intentions fail to save me,
once again

i could live with ugly truth
it is your lovely lies that i find difficult to bury
as i toss my shovel-full of dirt
onto the empty casket
of what never really was.

(c) 2020 BGeiger

beware


seeing stars on the way down
knocked flat
no warning.
i wasn’t really hungry anyway.

physical abuse
is preceded
by insidious, biting ridicule
that quietly erodes the ego necessary
for self-preservation.

contempt and scorn
are the daily bread of the dis-loved woman
she can not complain
she has no one left to listen
eventually she capitulates
at last believing
that abuse is what she deserves.

i have come to believe
that the abuser loves the challenge
of besting a strong woman.
i was not so much battered,
as conquered.

if i had only read
The Taming of the Shrew
instead of Romeo and Juliet
i might have been
at least
forewarned.

beware the charming man


(c) 2020 BGeiger

crysalis

my body is not who i am.
i am not this fuzzy little worm,
i am an elegant creature,
with fabulous golden wings,
you will see

my fuzzy body only sleeps in fairy dust
and grateful peace
while i become the glorious new me

when i wake,
i will lift my astonishing new wings
and my soul will fly
from flower to flower in the sunlight

and the old you, will see the new me,
and i will wink at you
and fly away


(c) 2020 BGeiger

fade away


the flower is dying,
but there will be another,
the bush will continue
without her

i wonder
does she struggle to breathe?
is she fearful of the end?
growing older changes my perception of myself.
i feel much like her,
faded, colorless,
and often, extraneous.

i do not want to be gone from my own life,
but that is vain
we will all fade from view.
it is how we are remembered
that saves our place in the garden.


(c) 2020 BGeiger