Who’s the boss?

I

once sat in your lap

dragged my fingers across your face

hooked a thumb on your lip

then left

you

alone in the dark

 

I

insist

that you don’t drink in the morning

or go out at night

 

I

demand that

your bow your body to mine, yet

remain

a pillar I can lean against

 

There’s a question about

Singularity

and duplicity

and our pieces that fit or fall apart

 

“The one who cares the least in a relationship has all the power.”

 

From the outside that looks like you

and I’m the one standing

with a hole in my chest

 

But you forbade me to play games with anyone else

I felt guilty, and pleased

“There’s more ways to kill a cat than choking him with cream”

(said Rudyard Kipling)

 

I

bend to the system

You’re a subjective anarchist

reflecting pluralities of meaning

offering alternative options

 

I bow to the Prime Minister

even though I don’t like him

 

 

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