How To Tell Your Woman Done Gone (For Dummies) - ADDENDUM

A Scene taken straight from a Movie:
Where girl silently drifts away
from the self-absorbed dude
who once held her sway, in every way.

Little by little the audience sees
her heart turn towards the open door,
left ajar by his poorly executed but
good intentions.

And when the pain of living a love
that is no longer alive become
too tense a pressure to bear,
when it boil down to the bottom
she will not shed nary another tear.

And perhaps in the most dramatic tradition
he'll come home one day and she'll be gone,
or maybe there'll be a different, new knowing
smile in her eyes, or even:
he stumbles upon her in an unspeakable act.

Or could be that in the hands of an artiste
of thoroughly cruel intention, he'll have his man
with eyes that slowly drift from her to the floor
ask her simply, almost rhetorically:
"why don't you laugh at my jokes anymore?"


ADDENDUM:

Act 3, Scene 3:

More dispirited than embarrassed, he broke from her bemused gaze and stared intently at the floor. "you know I bruise like a grape," he mumbled somberly after sufficiently melodramatic pause. When there was no immediate response, he looked up to find her muffling laughter: during the silence she'd turned away to the muted television just in time to catch a particularly funny scene in a classic movie from the '80's. For the umpteenth time, Lewis had stuffed the salmon down his Santa Claus suit and for the life of her she couldn't keep from sniggering...


ADDENDUM II:

Act 2, Scene 16:

The thought came upon her in a moment of sudden clarity. As is often the case with such bursts of awareness, it arose at a most incongrous time and place: while she was signing autographs after a show. "I'm so over him." During the taxi ride back to the apartment she had ample time to further consider the ramifications. Until now it had not even occurred to S. that for weeks, maybe even months, she'd been in the act of leaving him. Presently the signs came into stark focus. A wry smile began to widen as it dawned upon S. how much J., her new personal assistant, actually favored C. Not as he was now; but as he'd looked back then, when she'd originally fallen for him. J. was a bit taller perhaps but otherwise the resemblance was uncanny. The angular face, lean torso, the feminine fingers. Even his ubiquitous afghani-style hat and colored glasses. Rather than proceed to the next logical progressions of the thought and wonder (A) how on earth she could possibly have missed the similitude during the interview process or (B) if perhaps C. had noticed it too, instead another, completely disparate sensation came. A warm throb which spread rapidly from the top of her head to settle in the pit of her stomach. It was deep resentment, bordering upon anger, born of the endurance of literally years of C.'s nuanced rejection. Yes, S. was certain he loved her. But it was a needy, codependent love and C. barely hid the fact that it was a love she had to re-earn on a semi-daily basis. Though she understood from whence such machinations came and even sympathized with his childhood trauma, enabling him had never returned her the loyalty and affection she had once been so sure would one day follow...

Unsung

The Sun also rises in the west
it just boil down to your point
of view, really, at what point are you?

you see what you swear you saw
so now do you trust it, dismiss it
or stand in awe?
there lies the difference in
what you could achieve:
it all come down to what you dare to dream.
Like popsicles in winter time, raspberries in spring,
somewhere out there that's how it be,
depend only upon what you
choose to see or not to see
that is the question before
the hearts of those of us asleep
- asleep to our impossible beauty
luminous beings we are.

wake when you're good
and rested, humble servant,
and be ready to be steady as
the rain and shine your light rays upon
this here creation like an each one sun,
teach another this lesson and
be thine own army of ubiquity,
master of unsung legend.

Like Past Lovers Do...

OK, I'll admit it -
I'm jealous of the way
you look at him, I know
he's my stand-in...

********

You wanna rap a new way, you say,
Like Past Lovers Do...past lovers do...

So shall I fade into the background now?
A fading picture in your gallery?

An echo spins past conversations
into the cosmic din
And the energy we had even
when our love was past, you
wanna diffuse it, let loose it
I send you a glimmer of it
But you refuse it, now...

I guess it was really all or none
And since I cannot love that way, luv
I'll take the latter and so like forgotten
friends we'll become as thoughts that
arise and pass between contemplative morning sips
of tea (or coffee), random faces that pass
along the background of our minds when
a memory is triggered by a song or a shape
or a dream of you naked underneath my
adoring spell, your scent upon me again
for an instant then gone...

But on the flip side:
You wanna deny the past
make it a one night stand with
a vulnerable man down on his luck,
like it was just a fuck, a fling, a tapenade,
french pastry, flaky golden brown
disintegrating when you bite, cannot
be eaten whole, but consumed
it will be nonetheless, unless
you spit me out baby...

You wanna disco night, drunken state,
blind date do over, a thing
Past Lovers Do: deny the real
because it's so much easier
to feel than the real...
ignorance is bliss, yes,
easier to forget a kiss than bliss, 'tis...

And so I'll let you have your release,
if it'll make you satisfied, I won't fight
you or beg you (to stay), no (more) drama,
no self inflicted pain, when someone wants
to walk away, I've learned to let 'em...