Pain is my Mistress

Pain is my Mistress

When I don’t make it to your party it’s because I’m with her
I lay with her for far too long refusing to move
Life passes me by and I miss it as I spend time focusing on her
I know I’m not supposed to talk about her
She’s supposed to be
Hidden amoung my contacts as Joe’s Pizza
She’s supposed to be quieted with a pill
Love, tea, and kisses are supposed to suppress her
Make her embarrassed to be in the neighborhood
But she is a haughty thing
and insists on leaving her lipstick
On my face, on my back, on my legs, my wrists
She insists on being in pictures with me
She insists on meeting my child
And flirting with my husband
Sometimes even stealing him away for the night
She is beautiful and she teaches me things
That no other lover could
She is wisdom and prophesy
She scratches her nails down my back
But I’m wearing a shirt so you can’t see
Can’t see the scars, the ache
But pain is my mistress
Can’t you smell her perfume in the air
Can’t you hear her cackling laughter
Rolling through your ears
The way electricity rolls through a bug zapper
Do you feel the brush of her skirt
Or the slap from her hand across your mouth
As you try to eat, try to stand, try to walk
She is a hard mistress and not one to be ignored
 
©Symmantha Renn
 
I think that pain has secret meetings with a lot of the people that you know.

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