Poetry through the Seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Stab me in the chest
and I’ll survive
because that’s what I do.
Don’t try to save me.
I’m through with anger,
ready to sacrifice.
Sometimes there’s no cure
for the harm between us.
She turns to vengeance.
He turns to hope.
Still in love.
Still devastated by love.
There’s no cure.
Maybe nothing
left to cure.
For the first time
she knows she
must be alone.
Walk away,
bleeding.
Don’t follow.
Finally, he turns.
She moves on.
The only way it can go.
She’s back
with a vengeance
wishing misery
on his head,
on his heart,
on his intestines.
She loves him still,
but wants him dead.
She feels a fool
for believing
anything he said.
Over shots of whiskey
with a kindred heart,
she shares her grief.
Naked on a tabletop
they find release
if not relief.
The tryst
is caught
on camera
for old lovers
and others
to see.
The man
who left her
at the altar
is quick to judge,
but who is he?
Who is he?
Waiting for the ceremony on his wedding day, he thinks of what their life might be – comfort and kids and time to play.
They met at a revenge party. She was making some man pay for his indiscretions (she was a demon back then).
Later, when she was forced to give it all up and become human, she saw valor in masculinity for the first time in over a thousand years, because while he was flawed, he was a good man.
He found her quirky and blunt and sometimes overly attached, but he fell in love with her charm and her honesty and the way she felt in his arms.
Despite her powerful past, she was ordinary now, and that matched how he saw himself. So he asked her to join him for a life removed from heroics and hell dimensions – at least as much as any marriage can avoid such pitfalls.
They planned a beautiful wedding, filled with family and friends. Her family had horns and flippers, but were a pleasant enough lot. His were misogynists and drunkards and he remembered how they made him feel less than human.
Just before the ceremony on his wedding day, a man appears with visions of his future – a wife who resents him, children who hate him. He sees his bride grow old and sad as he becomes bitter and mean, drinking more and more, working less and less.
He sees none of the good parts, only how it goes wrong – how he’ll cause her much pain, how she’ll wish she never met him. How her face will reflect a canvas of misery that, on one brutal day, he’ll slam with a frying pan.
His beautiful bride! How can he marry her knowing what a hideous husband he’ll become? So he flees into the rain to wash away his sins, but they stick to him like genetic material, birthed deep inside, as much a part of him as the dark of his hair or his love of cartoons.
When he returns to tell her he’s no good, she comforts him, explaining that his visions weren’t real, but rather payback from one she’d wronged in her demon days, come back to spoil her beautiful day.
But the groom cannot be comforted, believing the only way to save her is to never marry her at all. To leave her now will cause a pain less savage than sixty years of togetherness.
He drops her hand and backs away. He leaves her on her wedding day. Beautiful and bleeding, she strolls the aisle alone, her heart spilling out in tendrils, her beauty stained and torn.
Weary of her own unhappiness, she returns to her vengeance career, bringing misery to men who break women’s hearts – something she was good at and knew would never leave her feeling so alone.
I’m lonely.
So
many
in
my
life
have
disappeared.
I collect trinkets
to keep me company,
stolen from those who ignore me,
presents for those who should care.
Stay up all night with friends.
No one wants to leave.
I wish it were for love of my company,
but it’s secrets
lurking
inside
the walls,
locking all the doors to keep us in.
In the light, we grow hungry.
Day beckons,
but the doors won’t budge.
Trapped we are,
together, battling demons.
If only you could hear my screams.
I need a job.
I need some cash.
Nothing too intense.
Something that won’t last.
Jobs can defeat you,
grind you up and eat you
in a double meat patty
of rage and disillusionment.
All around me,
people stare
like they’re anyplace
else but here.
If you want respect,
get a dog, not a job.
See yourself here
in ten years?
Run!