Female Trimalchio

I am struggling to remember what my life was like
before you entered. Before you conscripted
everyone I knew into your army of auspiciousness;
your way of being.

Before you consumed hearts and souls, and
put a mountain between us. When for the very
first time in my entire life, I was not right –
something was awkward
and you made me uptight.

Between him and I, and our loving fixture…
How can I be his best friend
when you’re in the picture?
How can I compete with
female Trimalchios’
when I am dictating poems
and they are dancing prose?


What can I say? I can tell you that the dried tears
on my pillow are there due to you. Will that do?
Does that satisfy your masochistic power?
I tell you, I never prayed as hard, as when
you stepped on the scene. I determined your
purpose was obscene; you’re not worth the price
they paid.

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I am just so very afraid.
Terrified that it may not be your fault. That all along
I’ve placed my blame on you, but you had absolutely nothing to do
with anything.

Petrified to admit,
I may be neither here, nor there,
but stuck in some middle position,
without a dream,
losing my flare...


I have to blame you, or this fear will spread
(But it is I who creates the poison
in my own head)