Baby Michelle was Melodramatic


It’s Poetry Tuesday! We are going to go back through all my old notebooks and look at the god-awful poetry I wrote when I was an angsty teen and then you will get present day Michelle’s re-interpretation/headdesk horror-filled embarrassment.


I watch you
Speaking to us
Trying to engage us
Capture our attention

While others ignore you
I cannot look away
Your sultry bedroom eyes
And artistic fingers

I do not hear words
Only your voice
Low and gravelly
Thrilling my senses

I can feel you
Your breath on my skin
Hands on my body
Tongue in my mouth

You shout
I gasp
Pulse racing
Do you know my thoughts?

Pacing you yell
Impatient with impudence
Startled I observe
You in this angry state

Dark eyes flashing
Hands slash the air
And I can imagine
You ravishing me here

In front of the class
You’d drag me up
Lecture me hard
But I wouldn’t listen

Furious you’d notice
My eyes on your lips
Cruelly you’d sneer
And snap at me

Embarrassed red flush
Would creep up
Over my face
Avert my gaze

Your eyes widen
Then narrow
Lips twist
A sinful smirk

My face jerked up
Hard grasp
Holds me still
Firm lips crush to mine

I ignite
Need floods me
I moan wantonly
Press against you

You hold me close
Drug me with kisses
Grind against me
Drag us toward oblivion

Clutching my hips
You throw your head back
Eyes wide open
As you bellow

And shake me roughly
Dark eyes sparking
You look pissed
I finally understand

I had spaced
Trapped in fantasies
Lost in pleasure
Forgotten you

Scorching blush
Races up
Paints my cheeks
Gives me away

Stutter excuses
Swallow hard
Avoid your eyes
Your burning stare

Eyebrows furrow
Displeasure evident
A terse order given
See you after class

Class time flies
I want it to drag
Can’t face you
Don’t want to

My death knell sounds
Everyone vacates
I drag myself up
To receive your wrath

“Damn you!”
You hiss
Stalking close
“Why do you do this to me?”

Confusion reigns
Until you act
Ensnare my lips
Steal my breath

Rip away
Glower down
Chest heaving
I touch my lips

Joy explodes
I hug you hard
Inhale your scent
Fight tears

You tilt my face
Sweetly kiss me
A promise kiss
Of forever

*whines and hides face and cries* Reading this poem was like hearing your parents having sex. It was like finally watching porn and then realizing your parents did that AT LEAST TWO TIMES to make you and your sister. OH GOD IT BURNS. I struggled long and hard about putting this one up because it is….wrong to me on so many levels now, but for teenage Michelle it was just a fantasy, a harmless one that was never indulged in, never really reciprocated or divulged. This was one of the few poems I did NOT read to my mother, or to anyone else for that I can recall. I hope to God I didn’t post it on my Fictionpress account. From middle school I was all about the Mature romantic relationships and all my co-authors knew it (I am SO SORRY). I had one scene in a sixth grade story (my first collaborative original fiction piece written with two other friends) where the main guy pulls the main girl onto his lap and they start making out. It got an all around EW GROSS from my co-authors. I was VERY miffed. The funny thing is for all my obsessing over romance and sex, I didn’t date until college and date is a VERY loose term for what happened in college.

A lot of people have problems with romance novels and I can understand it, Harlequin romance novels really do not give a healthy OR realistic portrayal of love, but if you think about it, it is a WORK OF FICTION. I feel that even without romance novels, good or bad, people are given unrealistic and  unhealthy relationship expectations from a very young age starting with Disney movies and prime time TV. Let’s start with the fact that our patriarchal society preps girls from a young age to empathize and identify with the white, straight, cis-gender male narrative, while boys are cocooned in almost impenetrable male privilege that makes it almost impossible for them to relate to anyone who is not male. Women grow up being told from every side that they are the supporting character who is smarter, faster, better, and cooler, but will always be secondary, because the main male character was BORN to do this (Here). We are also taught that our labor, our ideas, our “professions” are lesser and secondary to male labor, ideas, and professions. We are paid 70 cents to the dollar – if we are white – and we are not only told that this is normal, but we are denigrated and attacked when we fight against this reality. It is no surprise to me that there are a lot of stories – books, TV shows, movies, etc – that romanticize power inequality because it is a way to COPE. If you think about it carefully, most of the romance stories that women read that have the power imbalance in the relationship are not realistic because they are trying to make it EASIER TO SWALLOW. “Oh, yes, he is a billionaire, is eons smarter than me, has so much more power than me, and in the beginning is a real asshole, but by the end my feminine charms win him over and, even though we will never be equal, in our relationship we are equal and he loves and dotes on me” is the prevailing narrative because we are essentially told that that is the best we can expect.

It has taken me almost twenty-seven years to get to a point where I can have a healthy and fulfilling relationship and that is partly due to healthy romance novels that told me my significant other should be empathetic, kind, caring, and interesting in listening to my troubles. The good romance novels I read showed me partnerships and insisted that there was something better out there than being some asshole’s emotional trash receptacle and mommy 2.0. Because let’s face it, most of the relationships we see in our day to day lives – friends, family, etc. – are not healthy and the older you get the more you hear, especially as a woman, that you’re being too picky, that you should settle for what you got, and they’re not that bad, etc. Romance novels, while they may have fucked with my head a bit on the matter of what love looks like and feels like, created a higher standard for me to hold potential partners up against until I found one who didn’t pale in comparison (thank you, Brazilian Helicopter Pilot).

But….back to the poem *whimpers* Very over dramatic, purple prose, and melodramatic. Really, baby Michelle? Sultry, ravishing, scorching, burning? I am ashamed of you and embarrassed for you! It is also not the most clear of poems the transition from daydream to reality is kind of hard to follow and the ending is definitely not realistic. A high school teacher and student relationship lasting “forever.” I am not saying it doesn’t happen, but I will say that it is highly unlikely and that if this ever did happen, it would be statutory rape and the teacher would need to be jailed.

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