The Maid I Made

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I was a man who became a maid,
To entice the gaze of him alone.
I was certain of the price I paid,
Decision writ in solid stone.

Girdles and garters,
Dresses and lace.
Surgeons appointments,
A painted face.

As a boy and man I knew him well.
As we grew up did we grow together.
We bantered secrets and my heart fell.
His taste was clear. Women, yes. Men, never

Colour upon lips.
Heels upon feet.
A woman's habits.
"Thighs must meet."

I spoke to him after every date.
I'd encourage and I'd support,
Endless seeking of a loving mate
But my heart screamed to say 'Abort!'.

"Speak sweeter words."
"Use a smoother voice."
"Heed all this advice."
"Is this your choice?"

A year and a day to vanish from sight.
Private clinics and a surgeon's knife.
Rehab and tuition through day and night,
Remake me to re-enter his life.

All too large breasts.
A little black dress.
A woman to be.
Love to confess.

I was a man who became a maid,
To seize the love of him alone.
All too certain of the price I paid,
Failure writ upon flesh and bone.

(Standing right there
Outside his house.
Watching him kissing
His wedded spouse.)

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Comments

Tragic

joannebarbarella's picture

A sacrifice in vain.

Love in vain?

.Maybe not. She might love again. Not many poems here. Well done.

Love in vain?

.Maybe not. She might love again. Not many poems here. Well done.