| » Poem: ANOTHER RAG DOLL BENEATH YOUR BED |
ANOTHER RAG DOLL BENEATH YOUR BED
written by Poison Ivy01:33 AM 1/24/05. . .do I love you? Am I in love with you? I see you everyday, but you don’t see me. I’m just another face in the crowd. You already have enough friends, so I’m no importance. I love your writing. You have a gift that I find enlivening. And yet I am intimidated. Sometimes I wonder if you are even mortal. Maybe a god, and god that appears unlike others. And when I pray, I listen to my heart betraying me again. I’m hoping you can tell me if I am in love with you.
When I’m around you I’m scared to speak. . .I don’t know why. Maybe its just so I can listen to you.
While I stand in these stripped halls, I watch you laugh with your friends. . .and I wish I had the courage to join you. Your smile makes me cringe. . .and it feels like I can fly as my blood runs cold. And I just sit and wish you’d notice me.
Does my life revolve around you? I feel the hatred and love fighting to win the final decision. Like I am a crucified rag doll under your bed. Completely forgotten. And only used to collect dust as you age. If you knew that I loved you. . .would you love me in return?
I am under your spell. Rather if you intended to put one on me or not. But I feel it there. Tormenting me. Day by day you wont leave me alone. I feel too relentless to think of anyone else. If this is a spell. . .it worked. For the longest time I tried to hate you. . .because I knew how I felt if I didn’t. I never meant to make you think I hated you. Because I don’t.
I wonder if you wave at me to just be nice. Or if I really have a place unattackable and secure in your mind and memory. Do you notice when I am not there? Do you care? Sometimes I wonder if you can even stand me at all. But if you cant. . .I still love you, and I’ll want to listen to anything new that you wrote.
I remember you asked, “When will love come knocking at my door?” Well, I’m here. . .but I’m too afraid to knock. These are times when I wish I had a picture of you. I think I do love you. I am not yet sure. But if I am. . .will you love me back? Or will I be a crucified, helpless rag doll beneath your bed. To collect dust? Well. . .at least I’ll be under your bed. . . |
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