Another Poem I wrote for Femme Fatale

Mama Said ..

My mama told me of times like these,

Of days he will smile at me and cause that girl in my head to twirl,

so gracefully like an ecstatic yet composed ballerina
and of nights I will let my mind swim with graceful rhythms, 

through unending fantasies only to catch my breath again, 

because my dreams were a bit too 'far fetched'.

Of the times I would dance through unknown forests of beautiful desire, 

blindfolded, 

and feel extreme pleasure. 

She said no one will have to tell me which way to go 

because the right person will hold my hand through the darkness 

but she added that I was never to make it easy; 

she never told me that this would be a difficult task.

Of moments I will feel the effects of a famine 

due to massive droughts, 

in my lungs 

because the air between us will be filled with unwritten love songs. 

She told me to stop the knife from getting too deep too quickly

but I could hardly resist him, 

and as I bled volumes of love,

it was like my brain had reset 

because I could barely remember, 

how to pronounce the word 'NO'.

And so we danced together,

in this vast forest with untangled branches of 'I love yous' 

and non-existent trees of 'goodbyes'. 

He drew maps on bare sand 

and soon I became a skilled bandit in the darkness.

All the while the moon cast shadows of doubt upon us 

but I ignored them

as mama's words became a mere constellation

of stars that painted the night skies,

too far to remember.

Then my near sighted eyes began to see those dreams 

take the shape of dark circles 

that made a shelter beneath them 

as I counted days 

because one night while we dug up layers of gold and silver 

with perspiring backs and over active limbs, 

and retraced our steps through the bushy and now familiar path 

of a thousand 'I'd miss yous', 

we were completely oblivious 

to the fact that we had left something behind,

inside me.

But she warned me.

Of the times I'd be bruised with cold 'Hellos' 

and greeted with excuses each time I needed explanations,

for the unmarked footsteps that tainted our secret trail,

Only to realize I had only been a guest.
Of times when the wind that will cause me to shiver 

will be from unfamiliar waters of "If only's", 

flooding my conscience with regrets, 

that I would never see coming.

Of times my stomach will twist in endless knots of ineffable joy 

trapping little creatures with a million colors.
But that morning was not what she had spoken of; 

my stomach felt like its contents had been curled up in a ball 

and propagated by some undiscovered force

 out my mouth as a sick bland color. 

And at that moment, the butterflies were set free.

Mama said there would be days like this, 

but mama's words could never have taught me this lesson.