ego boost
you liked thoughts of us. the idea of someone being yours. but you didn't like us. you never loved me, it was just a lie you liked to say when you could see you were losing me. liked the thought of someone lying close to you, but you never liked me. appreciated my beauty and my body, but not the package of me. why did i give you all my secrets when all you gave me were lies? sweet honeyed things that tasted quite like ambrosia, i almost made you a god. good thing i came to my senses, woke before i was destroyed, before i became just another of your blue lipped angels beneath the ice. my voice was but a sweet whisper in your ear, i was good for your ego. but you weren't good for mine.
you liked thoughts of us. the idea of someone being yours. but you didn't like us. you never loved me, it was just a lie you liked to say when you could see you were losing me. liked the thought of someone lying close to you, but you never liked me. appreciated my beauty and my body, but not the package of me. why did i give you all my secrets when all you gave me were lies? sweet honeyed things that tasted quite like ambrosia, i almost made you a god. good thing i came to my senses, woke before i was destroyed, before i became just another of your blue lipped angels beneath the ice. my voice was but a sweet whisper in your ear, i was good for your ego. but you weren't good for mine.
Linda Crate's poetry is like a cross between an exotic bird migrating long distance and the surveyor's airplane in Michael Ondaatje 'The English Patient' (Film Version) flying over shapeless dunes on a hopeless mission to salvage love' in a dangerous time. All who pass her, on the Journey, should offer her shelter and the help she needs - to reach her destination...(wretchedEarth)
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