An open letter to poetry

Look poetry, we've always gotten along fairly well, right? I mean, yes there have been times when we've both kept our distance but we always find our way back to one another in the end, don't we? We're like really good friends who only seem to get together in the middle of the night for whispered conversations in the dark.

I remember the first time I saw you. English class, tenth grade. I opened up my book and there you were, with your neat little stanzas and perfectly rhymed meter. I'll admit, I thought you were one stuck-up bitch. But then I got to know you a little and I saw you that there was more to you than sonnets and villanelles. I found out you could be wild when you wanted, that you could and would say just about anything. You were the bad girl I always wanted to be. I can tell you now, I had a little crush on you back then.

Then I went away to college. I started seeing you less and less, running into you at random moments and never stopping to chat. I was changing, you were changing. It was like we were speaking two different languages, I just couldn't understand you. I was too afraid to try.

Three years passed, and it never occurred to me to look you up. I had moved on with my life, I wasn't thinking about you anymore. I'd convinced myself I didn't need you. Then one day, I turned around and there you were. It was like you'd been there that whole time, waiting for me to notice you. We started spending every day together, taking clumsy steps toward one another. You were patient with me, though, you let me make mistakes. Slowly, I began to love you again.

Things were good for awhile. It seemed like this time, we were really going to make a go of it. But lately, you just haven't been there for me. You seem distant, moody. I never knew you could be so temperamental. The time we've been spending together, it's been good but it's not enough. I just need more from you. I don't think it's asking too much.

I've been thinking about you a lot lately, about how to fix what went wrong. I've made a decision and I'm sticking to it. I'm not going to play nice anymore. I'm not going to sit around, waiting for you to call. I've had enough of this little cat-and-mouse game we play. It's time to take control of the situation.

Poetry, I've decided to make you my bitch.

It doesn't have to be this way. Believe me, this is not how I wanted this to go. I just wanted us to be friends, to be happy. But you've left me with no choice. You've gotten a little out of control and somebody needs to rein you in. Poetry, this is for your own good. If I didn't care I'd just let you get away from me again. Try to remember that I'm doing this because I love you.

And if you feel a slap on your ass every now and again, that's just me, reminding you who's your daddy.

~ Rebecca