They’ve always run to me from other women
Other lives or bitter circumstances
I take them with open arms
To laugh at their jokes, hear their stories
Let them cry on my shoulder
Use my body as a poultice to soothe their bruised egos
And praise their self-righteous arrogance
All the while hoping maybe this time
He won’t run back to her
The other she he truly loves
Who chides him for his faults and thoughts
And mismatched socks
The she who freezes him from her bed and her head
The she who only sees the unscathed hero
Because he comes to me to dress his wounds
Because I take the aggression and confusion
Because I hear vows of endless love
Each time he says he’s not looking for anything serious
They come to me with tan lines on their finger
Musk on their collar, hairties in their consoles
Her name on their lips
Sometimes they’re sensitive or even fearful
Of hurting me by mentioning their other indiscretions
And sometimes I play therapist to the client-lover
On my couch, him asking me to help him
Resolve the conflicts of his real relationship
Thinking I can interpret the other
When all we have in common
Are his carnal gratifications and two X chromosomes
I drop everything and everyone when the phone rings
And it’s him without notice
Telling me he’s on his way and even though
He doesn’t say it, he threatens to take away
His pretentious presence
And run to someone else if I’m not there
We’ll be together long enough to reassert
His alpha status and maybe even nap
I may make him dinner or pour his drink
And share with him my beauty, grace, and wit
Trying to convince him or myself to stay longer
And build that fabled fence with me
They tell me their innermost ramblings
That beautiful stream of consciousness
Their lustful gazes and strong embraces
Send me into a dizzying spiral when it all ceases
And I believe for that timless moment
That I am capable and deserving of his attention and love
Until I come, until he comes, until we come together
Until I feel his warm seed spilling down my leg
Onto the bed the other she helped make
Inevitably they run back to their other women
Other lives or bitter circumstances
Leaving me alone to clean the sheets
And mend the remnants of my tattered dignity
Leaving me alone to hear the desperate voice
Of loneliness and insecurity coming from my own head
Leaving me to wander the wide world
Searching for some sense of satiety
Screaming their names into the ears of other men
Who take me in open arms
The other he who laughs at my jokes, hears my stories
The he who tolerates my temper tantrums
The he who shows me patience and generosity
The he who takes my aggression and confusion
Soothing my bruised ego with his body and admiration
His carnal gratification and one Y chromosome
The other he who might even want to build me
That fabled fence
Yet I do not see him for the long shadow cast
By the men who run to me from other women
Other lives or bitter circumstances
I let the other he hold me long enough
To make me stronger, sexier, safer, and maybe even nap
Before I run myself.

© Crystal S. McDonald.