Rotting Passion Fruit

He wanted someone to love,

so he kept her,

even though maybe it was a lie

he kept telling himself

and her over and over until it became

so untrue with no connection

to reality, at all, that everything

around them would just wilt

in their presence.  Not that he liked much

about her, but she was good to look at

washing the dishes.  She was

quiet, so not much

of a bother.  Day in and day

out, she was obedient as

she was told.  Started putting on so many

layers and layers of unfinished business,

that sometimes even her clothes would tell

her a poem or two.  No one knows

what goes on inside my mind.  Grimacing,

she would dust herself off every single

day as good trophies do.  Slender and fit

is what men like, but he uninterested

in  her flesh and bone, skin on skin, nor her

salty sweat.  No, not at all.  A passion

flower withering with no one

to watch how beautiful it is.

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4 Comments

  1. What a powerful poem and the phrase “layers of unfinished business” is just amazing in what it conveys.

  2. I can see this from a women’s perspective as the trophy label by men. but I suppose a man would be considered a tool – jackass. men have it tough…hahaha.


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