For Mitchell Love Liberty (A poem I wrote three and a half years ago) Oh, I'm happy. Happy. Happy to be alive. Glad. Overjoyed. Delighted. I'm in ecstasy just about all of the time. I can barely remember what being angry felt like. Flowers bloom. Birds sing. Sun shines. And love poems get written. At first I thought it was the caffeine in my coffee, but it was decaf. I checked. Then I blamed my hormones, but it was the week before my period. The week before my period. I don't think I've ever been happy. But if I have, I've certainly never been happy during the week before my period. Why? Why? A man makes me happy. There, I wrote it. There's no taking it back. His name is Mitchell and because of him, angels dance, rivers flow, fireworks e x p l o d e, and an angry poet loses her edge.

How to Heal the Hurt by Hating

by Anita Liberty

Villard •  June, 2006

All material copyright © 2006 suzanne weber

no stealing yo

Mitchell’s New Girlfriend (A poem in five parts) I. Her name is Heather. II. She skis. She climbs mountains. She goes white water rafting. She even owns her very own pair of rollerblades. I'm so happy for her. Really. I am. III. Mitchell and Heather. Mitchell and Heather. Mitchell and Heather. Big fucking deal. IV. Hm. Given a choice... What would I rather be good at? Windsurfing or the honest and noble expression of my artistic impulse? Hm. V. Heather. A woman. Like me. Not like me. Poor Heather. Not like me. Because now Mitchell's her problem. Poor Heather.
I’m Not Bitter Slipping slowly, deeply, down the drain of my life. Consumed by the darkness of my unfulfilled dreams. Black heat surrounds my lonely — oh, desperately lonely — body. My existence has become a blur of dissatisfaction and I feel nothing but what I don't have and that is everything. Don't feel bad — I mean, it's not like it's your fault or anything. Oh yeah, actually, it is.
Not Thinking About You Not thinking about you. Not thinking about you. Still not thinking about you. I don't care what you're doing. I don't care who you're with. Because I am not thinking about you. You are occupying no part of my thoughts. No sirree. You are not on my mind. I am not kidding. I'm not even trying not to think about you. I'm just not thinking about you. At all. I am not thinking...oops. Wait a minute. I did just have a thought about you. No...I'm wrong...it was about someone else. Still not thinking about you. Not thinking about you. No matter how hard I try, I just can't stop not thinking about you.