he preferred goddesses

[Heartafire]

He seemed amused,
scoffing at “The Catcher in the Rye”.
Who has not read that by age eighteen?

Perhaps he needs saving,
straying too near the cliffs.
He loves to read and the way
my hair catches the wind.

Like most men, he preferred
a goddess but moved closer
my warm skin.

We would meet again,
me with my Bell Jar,
he with his academics.

We stayed forever in that shabby room.
Toast with hot chocolate,
reading Madame Bovary
and Sheldon paperbacks,
flipping through Playboy.

We parted on a wintry day.
When I found him again
he was living in a pink tract house
on faded dreams.

[rowens]

I prefer goddesses too. But they all become women when you touch them anyway. And stay that way.

Of the two times I mentioned The Catcher in the Rye in poems or songs, one also mentioned The Bell Jar.

Girls are afraid of me, because they say I make them believe in fairy tales. That's why I can't relate to these poems, and most poems. That's why I never lived with any of these women. They sometimes say they want to be goddesses, but it's harder than it looks. And I don't know anything about academic attitudes.

That's how I read things. I can't relate, because for me dreams aren't faded, but blinding. But I can see your character here with his amused academic expressions. Don't even have to be academic to make those expressions.

And I can see all the women that loved them, looking down on me because of something bad I said about coffee.

This poem made me think that stuff. Sorry about that.

[Heartafire]

I prefer goddesses too. But they all become women when you touch them anyway. And stay that way.

Of the two times I mentioned The Catcher in the Rye in poems or songs, one also mentioned The Bell Jar.

Girls are afraid of me, because they say I make them believe in fairy tales. That's why I can't relate to these poems, and most poems. That's why I never lived with any of these women. They sometimes say they want to be goddesses, but it's harder than it looks. And I don't know anything about academic attitudes.

That's how I read things. I can't relate, because for me dreams aren't faded, but blinding. But I can see your character here with his amused academic expressions. Don't even have to be academic to make those expressions.

And I can see all the women that loved them, looking down on me because of something bad I said about coffee.

This poem made me think that stuff. Sorry about that.

Hi rowens, thank you for reading and your opinion. I guess this reads as a pompous piece of crap. Reading again, following your comments, I feel that undertone in this though it was unintentional. It is just a poem with no deep message to convey. It is actually an embellishment of an encounter with a friend from the past. I like your honest and straightforward way, I admire it. Thank you again for commenting.
my best,
Heart

[rowens]

Really, I like the kinds of girls that like these kinds of guys. I just don't like men too much, or the things that the girls like.

I guess in my utopia, everybody would be living in the woods, lamenting the loss days when Robin Hoods were needed, and writing poems about obsolete holidays.

It doesn't seem all that pompous. The narrator seems like a decent girl to me.

[Heartafire]

Really, I like the kinds of girls that like these kinds of guys. I just don't like men too much, or the things that the girls like.

I guess in my utopia, everybody would be living in the woods, lamenting the loss days when Robin Hoods were needed, and writing poems about obsolete holidays.

It doesn't seem all that pompous. The narrator seems like a decent girl to me.

thanks rowens, as the narrator I can vouch for this girl, she is decent most of the time, but not so much that she is boring. Bell Jar sucked, speaking of boring.