Maria Elizabeth Rodriguez is a nurse, theater nerd, and cosplayer. A long time poetry fan, she has recently returned to the role of poet, diving in with great enthusiasm and a drive to grow. She lives in Long Beach with two cats who enjoy “helping" her sew.
To The Fuck Buddy Who Cannot Be Named, Because I Never Learned Her Name
To our first meeting
you brought a cock
this long and
this wide and
your bright red sex chair
that you had bought at Target
and dragged a block and a half
from the nearest street parking to my condo
To our second
you brought several demands
a conviction that I was your match
and a blues playlist so banging
that I talked to you
for two extra days
just to snag it
It was worth it
When I look in your eyes at our grandmother’s funeral
I see a stranger looking back at me,
not the little boy
I used to bounce on my knee
Not the Batman who held
my Catwoman's hand
as we raced through the park, grass turning
brown at the edges
where busted sprinklers fail to provide water
as you tell me a 4 year olds’ secrets
I will take to the grave.
I see a young man who loathes me, who fears
the changes I can bring. Sullen and angry,
so like our father already at 15..
I promised I’d come back
when I said goodbye to a
I said I would never
let him destroy you
and I tried,
oh, little brother how I tried.
But beating against the concrete wall
of return to sender and
no you can’t visit
wears even the strongest down.
And I have never been the strongest
And the truth hits me
like the car crash our father always
wanted to cause.
You are already broken.
And I am never coming back.