Dreamgirl

On Thursday, November 7th, 2007, four days after my husband, Chris said he was considering divorcing me, I rolled over in bed and wrote this in a spiral. I didn't have my glasses on and I couldn't see, but when faced with ultimate rejection, it felt like licking some wounds was in order, blind and naked didn't get in the way. 

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After a year of trying to convince some friends of the myth of the dream girl-- that eventually, after a true relationship began, the dream girl image would be dashed and reality would set in--I got an inkling. 

Fearful as I was to believe in the possibility of  someone who would utterly delight in my existence, flaws and all, the idea took root, a latent seed planted long ago.

So, needless to say, Chris is not the You in this poem, but he has since adamantly revised his opinion about my Dreamgirl status. And God, well, maybe He is the only one who can truly feel this way about me, or anyone for that matter, I don't know. 

I did learn how to bask in glimpses of glory, a piece at a time or a whole bunch at once and I am grateful for that.

Did you know me when my

eyes were fireworks,

When my hair fell in triangles across my forehead,

my mouth open wide and loud?

You hold your hand out

I put my heart in it

You don’t make it beat but it finds your pulse,

Matches your rhythm.

Not for you

because of you.

If mine hurries ahead some days

You never say too fast, too fast

If mine can’t keep up, you never say too slow, too slow.

You listen to it. You like it.

You shape me into a continent,

not to conquer, but to tend.

You run your hands through me, plant treasures

I find a piece at a time, and I grow.

Not for you

because of you.

I grow flowers, turquoise, blood red,

sturdy pedals like Ferris wheels,

all color and light and never-named.

Why name them? you ask. Let them be.

You form me into a wide-open sea.

Swim in me, drink and eat of me.

You are filled, but I am not empty.

Giving is good and easy.

Not for you

because of you.

I build waves of power

And foam that wash over you

Soaking into each pore and crevice

You lick my salt from your lips

In time I am ready to be sky.

Clouds like dandelions float in me

silk spider webs thread through blue

gold is pouring and pouring.

Not for you

because of you.

I fold open, spread smooth and clear

And envelope your brown skin

plunging into your gasps

filling your lungs with me

And you,

You never try to contain me.

Why would you?  You breathe me out

and bask in the flow.

You, who

even if I were flower pot on your window sill,

or a ribbon of water bubbling in your back yard

or a patch of sky outside your jail cell

You’d water me, grin at my growing,

You’d cup your hand, dip into me and drink.

You’d grasp the bars and breathe me in deep.

Because you,

You always knew

I was your dreamgirl.