Southern Charm

  You make me boil.
I like watching you flat on your back,
hair splattered across my pillow.
Each time I gotta tell myself
c'mon sweetheart,
pretend that you love him,
pretend that you love him,

  I hate you but I crave you.
fury seethes beneath my eye whites
and lens focus on you,
my fellow fish,
the squiggly swimmer.

  You take me
tumbling down waterfalls
as you coax me to be young again.
But I don't want to be your southern charm
or your neon angel
I wish I were ripe for the picking
but instead, I'm tart and temporary
on your tongue
and you have a tooth
for sweeter flavors.
I never linger on your taste buds,
in your mind
I just stand, looking in
from the white picket edges of your heart
wanting the "you" inside the fence.

  so, my little pisces southern angel
I will rant and rave elsewhere.
I can't live on the cold edges
of your boyish ideals.

  By Marisa Torrieri