Sylvie Hill

Love, Fishing For Answers

To the woman who pines for an asshole
And that man who reels on lost love
I’m about to make you feel better about yourself
And help sort your crap and be it resolved that…

Women dwell in sentimentality
No more opportunity to nurture him.
And the man yearns for his ex’s breath (breasts)
And for their love making moments and sessions.

But do you not see – here come the genders:

The woman loves through serving
The man loves through doing
She gets hooked on the exclusivity
He gets dependent on the sexuality

Both are lost in their separate realities
Coming together as dispositions
Both disjointed in their approaches
Through fucking they come together.

The Cure once sang no one loves or knows another.
It’s why they say “true” love since we are all liars.
You, you love him because he’s a father figure
And she, she reminds of you of your ideal mother

How do we love separate from craving?
Like flying without taking an aeroplane.
Let intuition be a guide and pilot then say I
And embrace chance, mystery and a good lay?

Nay, don’t question the luck, know when you walk away.
Timing is everything, baby, he wasn’t your type, anyway.
Many more fish in the sea, so go fishing
Cast your net wide, they say it’s a numbers game, right?
And enjoy the sunset along the way.

Lobster meat is poor if kept in a tank
Let your crustaceans be wild and free
If kept too long, preserved and held onto
That fish my darling will start to stink.

Give space like to an orca whose home is her ocean
And whose beckoning to loved ones resonates global
If we be more animal than human
Perhaps we dispel of our tragic flaws, then
We are needy and templated from family dramas
Trying to breakthrough that history to create some new ones.

Sylvie Hill