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Metaphorically Yours
April 14, 2017
She said to me
"Boy your touch is like fire.
I speak no satire.
Love your mouth is sugar-sweet.
Lies are something I just don't breed.
Baby, I love your honeyed voice,
But I hate men who play with women like toys."
"For freedom becomes me,
to me, grace is free.
To me, it's in the curve of my body.
I weep not for parting, for I'm not sorry.
It didn't work, your love was a cranky machine,
I'm not one to stand low for your tears pristine.
Baby, women can no longer stand prison bars,
But I shall forever remain, metaphorically yours."
© Jessica F., Bradford, MA
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This is a poem about a strong, intellectual woman, who does not stand unfair restraints that her partner imposes on her. She is a free woman and a strong pillar of her own beliefs and ideas. She assures her lover that though they might not be courting each other anymore, she treats him like an equal and dwells into the thought that a man can only objectify her using his silly metaphors only in his dreams.