The Joy Vampire
empty hearted herself
she cozied up to me
offering the magic
of imagination
of stories in the moonlight
of dancing early in the morning
around the misty lake
it didn’t pay to argue
for logic was always on her side
she was always right
i was always wrong
except sometimes
she would shock me
when the worm threatened to turn-
she would acquiesce
gifting me with a rare compliment
i did know what i was talking about
i could sew a straight seam
i could create
until i expected it
then she would turn, herself
and accuse me of perversion
in my imagination
in my poems and stories
when i wrote about the simple beauty of a young girl
and a small boy talking to a magic tree
- i must be a ‘closet something’
and why did i write about child molesters?
i had to stop sending her my thoughts
my dreams
my wishes
she was talented at opening me up
making me ripe for the killer sting
which i prayed would not come
this time
in that, she was always right
and i was always wrong
to hope she would ever change
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