tucked away in this chamber of clarity
I wear my drippy emotions deep and despairingly
I’ve stopped crying for now
but the sickle windy weather is fairing
the faint frozen soul in me
the candle is in here
it hasn’t gone out yet I see

the men come quickly
everywhere it seems
they’re waiting to objectify
more of me
they honor only their disease
project these fucking sensuous motives onto me
I don’t want sex, not in a way mortals do
I made love in a dream once
it felt more like love than use

I want such love to experience
to constantly create the spiritual ecstasy
it's more of a thought than an act
I crave healthy thinking in every cell
to know how such love feels beyond the dreamy fairytale

Fulfillment, it doesn’t dissipate after the sun rises
sometimes I delight in indulging his altering guises
young once, older the next
he's even come in an age when he was unwed
as I did suggest
it’s proven one way to know more
to be loved, cared for, and adored
by one man, at least when he chooses to see
the most sensitively remote and pure side of me

Do I know who he is at all?
Do I falter too frequently in disbelief?
if it’s truly Jesus, so mote it be

all those who know not the trinity
bide their actions by impulsive brink
laughed at sad cat calls, ignored the pervert winks
And when I tried to oblige and make it work
I tolerated abuse
and heard every petty excuse you can think
and I’ll tell you now
excuses won’t make a wedding ring

celibacy, my will
to have and hold
abstaining from skin
no more, no more men can come in

I hear their thoughts
the way they react to my form
the come not for the basin of life

they lay with countless women
who are obviously not their wives
and then they wonder why
they’re souls are still so unsatisfied
Godless fools

you can’t fill yourself with material and sex
and expect it to fix what’s wrong
another broken, loveless marriage
keeps playing that tired, ill fated Disney song
broken record
scratch

(c) Jessica Robbins