didn't want a girl at all, I guess.
Still, here I am--
a pretty smart, pretty funny, pretty different, pretty mess.
Gin didn't kill me;
I lived to tell.
Learned from thin air
to care for others and myself.
I'm my own kind of girl.
Your loss.
_________
a day late for Fireblossom Friday and G Man's Friday 55
i like it.
ReplyDeletePerfect.
ReplyDeleteTheir loss indeed.
ReplyDeleteWhat is this, a contest for the shortest comment? This poem deserves more than a word, though in it's brutal brevity it does seem to evoke a certain terseness in return. Sometimes things can become clarified and distilled yet remain layered and intricate, as the emotions and events here--this tells the story of a life; all that matters in the end is in the last few lines. Pungent and excellent, Shay.
ReplyDeleteYes, "your loss". The journey of the unloved child is to learn how to care for oneself, for certain. A big turning point. I LOVE "I'm my own kind of girl. Your loss."
ReplyDeleteYeah...
ReplyDeleteYou tell em Sistah.
And if anybody tries any funny business, you show em the back of your hand.
NOBODY messes around with 'The Blossom'...Got it?
Loved your Tough Girl 55 Shay
But we all know that underneath that rough exterior, is a rough interior...:P
And a mind of a poetic genius!
Thanks for playing, and have a Kick Ass Week-End...Go Tigers!
Right on the money, Shay. Great stuff.
ReplyDeleteK
What a great photo to this poem for all who may appreciate the depth and what the world gives back should we try climbing up the mountain to learn to care, even from mistakes, others and ourselves. That girl in the photo with her cool control of fire I admire because she suggests we all should have her low tolerance for BS.
ReplyDeleteAnd thank you Fireblossom, for what it may be worth...
Yes, sock it to them! They should be made to realize what they are missing! Nicely Fireblossom!
ReplyDeleteHank
...yes, it reads tough. But this kind of toughness is often born from someone who did care a great deal... and suffered for it. I don't understand the title, but that is OK.
ReplyDelete... here I am all "heavy" feeling and I look up and see Catblossom ready for Fall in her "magic" scarf. ha ha
Sometimes that's the only reserves we have to draw from to learn...
ReplyDeleteHer loss most definitely. Anyone in recovery would understand and applaud this poem, Shay.
ReplyDeleteIt is/was/would be her loss. No doubt about it.
ReplyDeleteYeah, those last two lines were a kicker...An ass-kicker...
Wine didn't kill me either...
ReplyDeletebut your words do. LOVE!
Your loss indeed.Lovely poem in it's brevity it carries a direct message. Love the picture!
ReplyDeleteWonderful companion to my less good poiem/post today!
ReplyDeleteShay Shay - gone away. Hope you are busy with fragrant fun- not mererlycoping with shortening light-lethargy, Dear.
Aloha
our gain! a superb human being/woman!!!!
ReplyDeleteThis says a whole lot in 55 words. Redemption of self is really all that matters.
ReplyDeleteHa, Hedgewitch's comment about brief comments cracked me up.
ReplyDeleteI especially like the 'pretty' line, and how you twist the last pairing- another demonstration of your assured narrative voice.
Quietly triumphant.
ReplyDelete