words

Happiness, so elusive- like a slippery fish,
I want to cherish the word and curse it at the same time.
 Find it and contain it, or banish it from the universe.
 Make it "the deplorable word",
 Or seat it somewhere close to the throne of God.

 I find so little I enjoy anymore.
Ice cream is fattening. Chocolate is too.
Sex is either taboo or a task... In one I revel the other I dread.
And then feel guilty for both.

I am chained. To marriage, to being thick, to still being desired by men.
Men who have paused long enough to see past the flesh and see my heart.
Who find I am genuine, sensitive, erotic, funny, smart.
My failure to be perfect hasn't been a failure at all.
 But it hasn't made me happy either.

 Here, at long last, as I write-
 I feel the grit and sweat and pain of life wash away.
The words pour out like water from a fountain,
Clean, pure, sweet, refreshing... almost happiness.

 I realize I've almost lost myself in the madness of my own life.
or better yet- I realize I can save myself with words-
Words, words, words.