Objet petit a

Objets d'affection
are still mere objects.

And, oh, how you make them feel
like the tiny objects that they are not.

As if they were nothing
more than a vessel
made to hold your pretty words
and some skin
for your gratification.

My loyalty was boundless
and born of heart and mind
while yours
merely a function
of genitals, conditions, and
a carefully landscaped distance.

And, oh, how your actions
have always attested
to the fiction of your words.

And still you wonder why
I always say no.

For years
you have cursed
my perceived vacillation
while I have waited for proof
that I was more
than an objectification.

And, oh, how you could have
had me
in any of a hundred moments
had you ever really seen me.

Yeah, you will be indignant
and I will be punished –
avoided for years
while the ghost of
“I would never hurt you”
wafts through my daily life.

Yes, you would

and

yes, you do

and

no, you don't

and

no, you aren't.

You never really were.


© 2010 Marcy Stoeckel