Teddy.

Arms always in an open stance

prepared to hug

my teddy bear

sits quietly, awaiting my return.

Patient, he is never

unprepared to

offer me comfort.


 

Crossing your hands around

yourself, you are

purposefully preventing me from

showing my affection.

Purposefully you spurn me, tease

my heart.

You cut me to the core.

So you I leave,

to my teddy I go.


Poor teddy.

He’s a real man:

content to lie on the bed

or be tossed to the floor in fits

or sobbed and gasped into when I need to hide

my face, despaired.

No matter what I can return

to his embrace.

 

 

 

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Teddy.

  1. PS. If you could find the sweet spot between teddy and the unattainable one, I think you would have your ideal man. Nobody wants a pushover, but no one wants a jerk either. Also, you write really well for one so young. I really enjoy your poetry. Take care.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s