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Hidden Love Does Not Mean Forbidden Love
April 13, 2016
Lonely thoughts I have in my head cause me
To live in fear; constant weak spot of mine,
Proven incurable, even with time-
Just one more drink to keep my sanity,
I swear for me, it'll be no more than three.
The place is absolutely filled with grime,
No place for my white furs, diamonds; just crime-
And now, even whiskey cannot save me.
But you, walked in and now my heart is yours;
Such charm and looks, I'll forget your clothes.
This place is bad; I know that yours has doors.
Under my robe, is where my true love grows.
From you I'll hide the truth - for us - in drawers,
With silks, and jewels, with furs, mirrors, and bows.
© Michelle W., Ada, MI
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I wrote this piece after reading the play, "A Streetcar Named Desire." I wrote it with the intentions of it being spoken from the perspective of Blanche, the main character.