love

A Poem About The Female Thing That Psychologists, Lovers and Scientists Still Try To Figure Out

Painting by Frank Bauer

 

Everything that I write is for a one man

Each post on Facebook

Every story every poem and all the glow in the photos

I write only for a one man

Even when it’s not about him I write for him

I’m running away from a place where I’m alone

To the people I become even lonelier with

If I need to go to another city all I think about is – shall I meet him there?

That’s why I write “How about meeting you in Cardiff?”

My every move, and these words in front of you,

These are for him, too

I bought a bread for an old homeless man, in the nearby bakery

And I didn’t do it because I would feel better that way

But because I saw this golden crispy bread down

to his hands

I’m running away from my sincere feelings

I’m running away from the real men

Sabotaging my love life for the

messages he won’t ever respond

But not because,

Oh, I know now, I want a man,

But because I want that what he has –

I want a centre of the inner women’s world.

 

—

Naida M. has published two books of poetry. She has a master’s degree in humanities. She survived the war in Bosnia. And loves to make cakes.

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