To ‘steal another woman’s man’…
The phrase is old and unreliable
it reeks of guilty blame
and shying away from responsibility.
Stealing; a concept seen cleanly when
speaking of chocolate and cheap jewellry.
Woman; a word associated with shame.
The guilty party is not the stolen nor the thief
but the water upon which the woman states her
the mobile depths
the lack of firmament.
Stealing a man indeed
whoever heard such rubbish.
But what speaks here?
The use of abstract to deny the fact; the reality of pain in this world of grey matter.
Matter I mean, really… DOES it?
Do we kill the abstract also, with our guilt.
Our need to claim, to drive our stake through someone elses heart?
It’s not as though I picked him up and put him in my pocket,
then scurried home to get him out
and thrill at my bold action with delight.
Or do we make real the theft
by doing just that in our lonely mind?
Is the purety of experience lost
in the hackles of a jealous thought?