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July 27, 2014 | by  | in Features |
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A Poem for a Paper

Sometimes I wish I was into the one night stand
You know the one, it ends with the got-laid parade the next morning
The celebratory walk of shame showing all that yes, I did bang
some random with a body I may or may not have liked
to get some old school satisfaction and guess what, it lasted
all night. I hear his voice on the radio sing “You’ll get what’s coming to you”
Well, good or bad it hasn’t been happening and I want what’s coming
But just because I may or may not be frustrated doesn’t mean
I won’t want my dues for other reasons. I want to scratch this itch
but not because of the booty on that cutie, but I’m selfish by name
selfish by nature and probably the desire for a brief love affair is
due to my perfection at exorcising away the gnawing pain of
Most of the reason I want the d is because there’s this creeping fear in me
that I’ll never be looked at like I’m precious and priceless
A piece of art, an enveloping canvass of colors, the different sides
of my personality and features and faults and desires
That no one will care enough to uncover my baggage and go through my suitcase
Find the dirty, the naughty, the bad taste and still look at me and see
That no one will bother to look beyond the surface, won’t bid at my auction
And art left alone is like a tree in the forest, forever silent in fall
I constantly fall, constantly falter, never meet my expectations
or those of my mother, who cares but in a way that makes me want to
shoot something
She doesn’t even know I’m writing this poem or wanting to just give up
And end up in a stranger’s bed, clothes on the floor, thoughts in my head
of all those bed time stories, the lies about finding true love at 16, shut up
no boy knocked on my door with flowers and told me I was pretty
In fact
Trying to think of a person who I haven’t let down is an exercise
in self despair and I’ve never liked running or weights
That’s why the one nighter, the sleepover, the hit it and quit it.
The real fear is that even if someone does look and see and know
I will ruin us both because all I’ve done somehow still adds up to
not good enough
Being left alone after being held might be the bitterest form of hell
I’m not ready for damnation yet, so I’ll stick with my taste of the fire
of passion, here one night, gone before dawn so I don’t have to see your face
and feel my own eyes widen at the audacity of what I’ve done, used you for
my own purposes
Because really, I’m not meant for the one night stand
can’t take it, can’t choke it, the heat from the fire is kicking
me out of the kitchen, onto your doorstep, away from the devastation
I’ve wrought there. As much as I’d like to think I’m worldly enough
for a quick tumble under the sheets and a quick escape to the streets
I know
In the dark of the night, possibly during and after, I’d tear myself
apart with the thoughts of disaster, of how this is just another way I’m
letting me down. It wouldn’t go well, I’d probably cry and make whoever
the guy is feel terrible but it really would be “it’s not you, it’s me” It’s me
I’ve come apart at the seams and am now trying to stitch it up, make it
better but all I am doing is picking at threads because I’m bored and whatever
What’s the answer to life, heartache and loneliness? 42? I tried that
it didn’t work
Maybe the stand is just PMS or me second guessing my own self esteem
I know loving and leaving is not my scene, I’m in for the long run
the enduro, the mission even though I hate running, I’m made for
the marathon from ignition to my end in flames and love’s the only
phoenix rising from the ashes in these sort of games. So I’ll wait
and I’ll hope, standing in the forest, praying for someone to hear
me fall. But I feel like life might be easier if
sometimes I was into the one night stand.

Ari studies Law and Commerce and wishes she studied at Toi Whakaari.

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