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Array
(
[sid] => 32893
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => You Bastard
[time] => 2004-01-27 15:38:44
[hometext] => This poem I made recently. My Father read it and commented that he didn't like it much at all, so I would love to hear more of an opinion upon it.
[bodytext] => You said you’d find no other woman who could put you in place, like I. You said men were always out and about looking for a woman who could shuffle the deck and know the man’s routine of gin. You said I was the finest woman you had ever seen and that I had much to offer the male sex. You said we would chat over a cup of tea and watch the downy woodpeckers chisel a fine sculpture in my baobab. You said you thought much on our affiliation and it was much more than a promiscuous amour. You said you’d take me as a wife and make a commendable silk of my coarse straw. You said you were enamoured by my veracity and wit while you chiseled a sculpture in my pit of womanhood, and dandled my breasts like an infant. You said this was more pleasant than watching the woodpecker do, because You were gratified. I wept for days because you had poisoned my baobab’s bark. You had ruptured a hole in its morale and it was on the verge of molting away to unveil the scorched contents indoor. You said you loved me, but not once had you chatted with me, but my trunk. Blood had seeped through the inner bark— dead cells. And you had left just as soon, gathering that bastard whiskey and those deck of cards you told me I could shuffle. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 182 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Silviaplath [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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