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I do not want to be your weeping woman holding you to me with a chain of grief.
I could more easily bear the flames of your anger than the frost of your kisses empty of desire:
I do not want to be your gentle lover dragging you to me on a rope of pity.
Sooner that you never touched me than that you ever should touch me from a distance made of mercy:
I do not want to be your silent mother always forgiving and smiling and never loving.
If you forget me, forget me utterly. Never come to my arms without interest: I shall know it:
I do not want to be your weeping woman pinning you to me with a sword of tears.
I do not want to be your weeping woman.
Alison Boordson
Read poems about / on: woman, anger, grief, mother, women, kiss, smile
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