a poem: a loss and freedom

I’m terrified of marriage
Strange for a woman to be
In this day and age
Although not really but
The stereotype dies roughly
So here I am
Not quite that stereotype
Not quite that other
Just in between
Really scared
Scared to lose myself
I lose myself a lot
On shabby streets
In between meetings in the hallways
In conversations where I nod a lot and
Too hard
In between the sheets
I lose myself
So marriage will only
That. I will lose myself to another
I guess people who love don’t mind
Giving up themselves
Don’t mind losing that bit of their identity
Indeed give it as a gift and receive in return
But I have never seen another person
Man or
Or tree
Or bird
Or animate kind
Whom I would willingly trade the bit of me for
That bit of me is all I have
That small pocket
Blue and ragged
I can’t give it up.
And who are you to ask it of me?
Not yet, not yet
Cries the not-yet bird
Until you meet the one
The one
Cries the-one bird
I imagine them in cages
But maybe the bars are blocking me in
Maybe I have it all
Turned around
I don’t want to get married to
A person
But I want marriage
So I am not alone.
and who would marry someone so silly anyway


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