Possession

May 26 2011

Your birthday, for sure

but rarely his.

And never on New Year’s

or Christmas.

He calls your place “ours,”

which is what it is

though his visits are quick.

Some toiletries, a change of clothes

the box of Cuban cigars.

How an alpha male marks

his territory.

And when he calls that woman

“the mother of my children”,

you let yourself be reassured

that she is the other

and you are first.

Lover.

Mistress.

Paramour.

Living like this

seems glamorous.

But more than cared for

you feel well kept.

And so you keep for yourself

the receipts he spent

and phone numbers left,

the petty resentments

you find hard to forget.

Protecting yourself

for the arrangement’s inevitable end.

To have and to hold

at his convenience

until it dies a natural death.

Which is the feeling you’re starting to get

since the last night you spent

together.

How it feels to possess

what you could never afford.

How it feels to be possessed.