The Talk Poem by Diana Holinski

Once again, we have to have The Talk
Oh, how I dread The Talk
Like a naughty child
Who wants desperately to be good
And honestly tries
Yet is confounded by the temptation
Of the Forbidden:
To express indignation
That you don't love me

And my toes curl with shame and contrition
As I listen for the umpteenth time
To your litany of reasons
You will never choose to love me
You will never choose to love me
You will never choose to love me
The words ricochet off the walls of my brain
I hate those words
Yet I force you to say them

You know I'm an angel, right?
With horns
To hold my halo up?
My desire for your love
Seems so pure and sweet
Surely it must be a product
Of the heavenly hosts
But then comes your displeasure
At my apparent inability to grasp
What you've told me
Again
And again
And, sorry about this, but-again
And then it seems my craving
Must be the spawn of the Devil himself,
This unrelenting hope


Maybe I can find contentment
In an artificial world
Like an exotic pet
In a contrived habitat
And let this be my habitat:
That once in a while you will
Delight my ears with your voice
Stimulate my intellect with your words
Thrill my eyes with the vision of your own
Indulge my nerve endings with the touch of your hand
Enthrall my spirit with your embrace
Sate my hunger with your kiss
Fortify my heart with your body
Which I can then lend to my soul

For just a little while.