Poetry of post-crisis self therapy
There was the one time
Sex, or the lack of
was used as a weapon against me
I buckled initially,
lashing out with violent shouts.
I calmed enough to sit back on the couch in a daze,
while the fabricated lovers went to do the deed
in the other room.
After the initial shock wore down,
I took a look at a lonely notebook
with just one page used.
I ripped that message from the book
and started at the beginning of the issue
of my forlorn love.
Within the next six hours,
I filled that notebook
with my own counseling
for my own problem
solving it before I saw the ‘Lovers’ emerged
from their fateful slumber chambers.
I asked them with a genuinely positive tone
“Well, how was it?”
