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| Me and M, Halloween '06 (I'm Countess Elisabeth Bathory, he's Col. Mustard) |
At any rate, I found this little gem of ancient history. It's a poem.
I wrote it for M, and never told him that I wrote it for him. It was before we started dating, when we were emailing each other constantly, in that state of nervous excitement that comes before you actually make a move,but you know that when you do it's going to go well.
I think you probably know what I'm talking about.
Anyway, this was a love poem I wrote for my husband, eight and a half years ago.
Radical Honesty
I want convention.
Tattooed, homemade, anarchic, paint splattered,
tattered, shredded and stained,
I want stereotypicy.
I want a house in the woods
two point five kids and a dog,
Hubby off to win bread by day
while I sew buttons and mend shirts
I want a garden and stained glass
Family trips to my inlaws
Bedtime stories and lullabies
PTA and car pools
Apple slices after school
and gingerbread at Thanksgiving.
In my inky skinned rebellion
In my determined questioning of authority,
In my polyamorous promiscuity,
I long for the normalcy of the American Dream.
I want convention.
Tattooed, homemade, anarchic, paint splattered,
tattered, shredded and stained,
I want stereotypicy.
I want a house in the woods
two point five kids and a dog,
Hubby off to win bread by day
while I sew buttons and mend shirts
I want a garden and stained glass
Family trips to my inlaws
Bedtime stories and lullabies
PTA and car pools
Apple slices after school
and gingerbread at Thanksgiving.
In my inky skinned rebellion
In my determined questioning of authority,
In my polyamorous promiscuity,
I long for the normalcy of the American Dream.
Who could have known I would get what I wanted?
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