Monday, June 11, 2012

I Flatter Myself That Your Refusal Is Merely a Natural Delicacy


     It has come recently to my attention that some of the girls close to me have become the victims of stalkers. Not the dangerously unstable I’m-going-to-knife-you-in-your-sleep kind. The weird, uncomfortable kind, the guy that suddenly starts showing up all the time or texting you a thousand times a day. The guy who won’t take a hint. I’ve never been stalked in this way myself (and I can think of about six hundred reasons why), but I know a reasonable amount about the phenomenon owing to having listened to the experience of my friends and the amount of research that I have done on the subject. I am here, therefore, to share what I have gleaned. No particular reason, I just haven’t written a post in a while and I was thinking about this all day. 

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Player

You shouldn't have let me see your scorecard.
I know you keep it in your back pocket.
You mark it every time you win a round
Every time someone cries because of you
Or sobs
Or breaks
Or gasps in pain and hopeless confusion
Every time you're on top.
Am I a player in your game too?
I want to see if my name is on your scorecard.
When you make me laugh
Or smile
Or tell you I love you
Is that because then you get more points when you take me down?
I'm done.
I quit.
I'm walking away from this.
Mark your card.
You win by forfeit. 


© Andrea Grace