Breaking the Silence (OK Not Really)

Not, in fact, a political post. The family of one of my ex-boyfriends used to troll me on Facebook by calling me Taylor Swift, not a compliment (no offense, Taylor, I actually quite loved the Red album!), because I tend to...write what I know. So, socioeconomic language aside, this is really more a poem about the men I know.

A Luxury

I'm the woman you

tell your shrink about:

the one who should

be madder than a loon

but isn't

because she can't:

one of those who,

watching you brunch

bottomlessly on breakdowns,

Roman orgy on defeat,

steam in your saunas

of self-pity, observes how

letting go is a disease

for those who can

afford the taste

and find it, richly,

to their liking.

Now, speaking of putting a bit of myself into the things I make, my next knitting pattern (to be Ravelried sometime in the Christmas season) is also about relationships. Don't let that put you off, though, it's also a lace half-pi shawl that, if all goes well, may turn out gorgeous and help those of you needing to blow off some scraps from a stash.

Because, apparently, moving on is the theme of the day?

It's that or being Cinna from the Hunger Games series...