tara caribou
poetry & short story author – artist & nature lover
For Better or For Worse
desperate dreams spread their gossamer threads across my mind, penetrating and perpetuating visions of grandeur. disgusted, or perhaps disappointed, I cast them far, flung open handed and wide. can’t win for losing, a voice whispers, but I snap my fingers and laugh sarcastically. or is it sardonically. either way, these dreams stole the tears from my eyes, the voice from my lips, ink from my pen, soul-sucking, and underwhelming in its methodical deviance. there was a time when I listened. there was a time I believed every word uttered under cover of night and in dark alleys. now I know better. now I’ve given everything and betrayal rose up and stuck its tongue down my throat. gossamer threads of memory and longing. silky threads to entice and woo. well, no longer. one day I dropped the special glasses and smashed them under my heel and lo and behold, my unholy betrayer held the ends and cast them like a net. I asked once, would you ever play me like you’ve played others? no? ha. you forget, I ditched the glasses of lovestruck blindness and traded them in for crystal views. you’re playing me right now, you diabolical motherfucker, and I’m letting you.
tara caribou | ©2022
16 Comments on “For Better or For Worse”
tara caribou 
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Tara Caribou – An adversary
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“I ditched the glasses of lovestruck blindness and traded them in for crystal views.”
Fantastic writing, Tara!
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Thanks Jennifer, I’m glad you liked this one.
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Brilliant – fury unleashed!
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Indeed.
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Powerful heart-wrenching words – beautifully written!
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Thank you, Tom. I sure appreciate that.
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That was crushing
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Sort of how I felt when I wrote it.
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I love those last couple of lines. Great imagery and emotion.
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Thank you so much Andrea. That means a lot.
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Superbly evoked musings 🌺🌷
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Thank you
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You’re very welcome
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can someone who wears those glasses ever really destroy them? without destroying who they intrinsically are? are they really just destined to continue what actually feels like denial because trust is given too easily and realisation is only in hindsight?
… asking for a friend …
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I’m really not sure. Perhaps the need to “rebel” is enough. The imagining or picturing of the defiance, if you will.
Or perhaps to break free, we destroy ourselves to ultimately free ourselves. A starting over.
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