So it has been awhile since I've written anything here, and since this is just for my own amusement I am going to stop promising what I am going to write next on this thing. I have never had that organized of a brain to predict what I will be interested in pursuing from one project to the next and I sometimes force it because I still believe that if I think something is worth doing than it is worth doing well. It's just a shame I sometimes only realize that something is not worth doing only after I have invested a foolish amount of time into it. That being said I wrote a semi depressing poem that I decided to revise and post here instead of simply throwing it in the garbage and going on about my day. I hope you find some enjoyment out of it. It's not in verse, because I've always been a free verse kind of guy (for explanation of this please refer to the paragraph you have just read above.) Thanks!
Now That He Is Dead
Now that he is dead she can tell the truth.
Now that he is dead she has nothing to fear.
Now that he is dead she does not have to hold back.
Now that he is dead she can release the valve,
that every irritating tic or tac she had not mentioned,
but could not forget can now gush,
and ooze, and dam itself, and clog,
only to break free and gush once again.
Now that he is dead she is free.
Now that he is dead she can demystify him.
Now that he is dead she can call his bluff.
Now that he is dead she can pull him off his throne,
the king is dead, long live the king,
and all those other people that he damned,
and despised, and only found confusing,
were only feeling what he was unable to feel.
Now that he is dead she can be angry.
Now that he is dead she can mock his masculinity.
Now that he is dead she can explain her frustration.
Now that he is dead she can curse him,
because he had tricked her early on with his touch.
The touch that had once made her tingle,
and made her skin blush, and her body flush,
and made her come and come, was long gone.
Now that he is dead she can explain herself.
Now that he is dead she can let him know how she feels.
Now that he is dead she can stop worrying about being weak.
Now that he is dead she can scream out the truth,
the truth that she loves him with all her heart,
the truth that she would have done anything for him,
the truth that she would have followed him anywhere,
literally anywhere, that is, anywhere but here.
Now that he is dead she is relieved
that it was not her that had killed him.
Aaron C. Molden