The Good Part


Isn’t it fun?

When someone borrows something you put together?

When you collage an image of something you love, and someone sees fit to use it for expressing their ideas about a world tiny in their eyes?

It’s pretty awesome.

The above image is mine. I created it from images I found on Google.

Of some books, and of Andrew Cooper, a model.

And the someone used it as a header for their Tumblr, which I found just now, when I searched for “shrunken man”.

But now, for the meat of this blog entry.

The Good Part

Tell me the good part again.
Is it when I found you, and shrank you?
Because I saw you, and thought, “Yeah.”
“That’s the guy.”
“He’s the one.”
“The only one that has to be small.”
Other ones may or may not be small, but he has to be.

Or was it after, when I told you I’d done it, and you screamed?
You screamed and yelled at me.
For a long time.
For months, or days, or hours.
Or one that felt like the other.
But I took it, and I grabbed you, and I showed you.
That it had to be you, that it could be no one else.

Is that the good part?
Or was it when I wrapped my hand around you?
And made you travel my world in eighty minutes?
Did you like that?
I didn’t even know your name, but I knew you.
Did you know me? Did you want to know me?
Was I the good part?

Or was it when you slept and dreamed?
And healed.
All the bruises and the scrapes.
You know I didn’t mean to, and you didn’t mean to.
A world of hurt in unmeant meanings.
A world of pain that was the good part.
A world of me written with the ink of you.

Or was the good part when you woke up?
When I woke up and saw the words.
The truth in everything you said.
Is the truth the good part?
Is the heart the good part?
My heart was in my hand.
Did you feel it pound around you when I squeezed?

Or is now the good part?
I think that’s what you’d say.
Now when there is an open space.
And your ground trembles no more.
And your mind is full of your own voice.
And you belong to yourself again.
Is now your good part?

4 thoughts on “The Good Part

Add yours

  1. What cracks me up is how the narrator lists the incidental wrongs she’s done to the tiny person, then breezily forgives herself for these. That’s one of the many aspects I love to this “gotta have you!” giantess. She’s so wrapped up in her own desires, her own heart-throbbing poetry, her lust and her giddy delight at a dream come true. And then she briefly touches upon his injury, diminishing its importance and kinda-sorta blaming him for it too, then right back to wondering if he knows how much she loves him. It just makes me smile.

    I do appreciate that you’re so able at poetry, where I’m completely disabled. I enjoy reading your thematic work, smooth and playful.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. She’s as wrapped up in her own vision as I was last night, in two bottles of this, and two swigs of that. Remember you suggested drinking while under the influence of writing? Well, I thought I was unable to type a single coherent thought while inebriated, but the opposite appears to be the case. What happens with you doesn’t seem to be what happens with me, though… or at least I don’t think it does. It seems I can still feel everything I write, but from a safe place. I like safe. But it takes bucketloads of swallowing to get there.

      And thank you! I can’t in all honesty say that I’m able at poetry, but I can certainly fudge it, and I will. Who’s going to take a stand against me? Who’s going to try? No one. That’s who.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you.
      It can certainly be interpreted as a happy ending, though it won’t feel that way for a while. You know how that goes. If peace of mind is happiness, then yes, it’s a happy ending.


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