Sylvie Hill

BABY, CAN YOU PLAY THIS?

Lately, I’ve been waiting a lot
to know if you know how to play this.
If you know that what you’re doing is the best way
to get this.
I point here. Here. And, here.
Lately, I’ve been thinking you know exactly
what you’re doing.
You stay far away from flirting.
You say nothing of my beauty.
I have no idea if you think I’m pretty.
And I love it.
Do you know that?
Are you aware of my duality?
Would you embrace it?
You’ve, to date, enraged it.
I thought you were mad at me for speaking filthy
and wanting it, but reserving it. Did you even understand it?
I ask you to say nothing so that you won’t break the fantasy.
You should SEE the love we make in my head, it’s crazy.
You should HEAR how you make me feel, I’m easy.
I put words in your mouth like “I know you want me”
I put words in your head like “She feels so fabulously filthy!”
I make you feel things like “her suck and tongue is bloody ecstasy”
I make you know things like “she wants a good fingering.”
Lately, I’ve been waiting a lot
to know if you know how to play this.
You nail shit. You always fucking get it.
I told you once how I did this, not to this extent
But how within seconds, it ceased to exist:
— Imagination met with reality at Heathrow, and that was it.
No more lover in my head. No more protection in my bed.
No more friend from London. The end.
Lately, I’ve been waiting a lot
to know if you get this.
People say you’re a dick.
I admire you in my head because you resist.
It means we can persist.
I adore you with my body because you are a figment.
It means I can revel in it.
When they say girls like assholes, I challenge that a bit.
If you are not interested, that’s fine with me, it’s permitted.
You know it only makes you seem smarter,
as if: carrying on with a chick, overseas
especially since you are the rock star!
See?
I flatter, I pet, I pouf and feign.
‘Well played, mate, so you won’t get played,’ they’ll say.
It’s what I do: protect myself in these ways.
And one time a guy I was starting to love got so high he penned:
“I’ve conquered the Hill,” but was quick to amend:
“I don’t mean that to condescend.”
I smirk and smile because
lately, I’ve been waiting a lot
to know if you get this:
You can take me. Berate me. Trash me. Negg me.
Strangely, it’s comforting.
It points to you knowing – exactly –
that what I need is you to not need me,
that shit scares me,
but to appreciate my insanity that keeps us both
very sane in these ways
in balancing my wanting and desire, sustained.
I should think if you if you do ‘get’ this,
It shall be resolved that you know me more intimately
and how I have the propensity to hurt you and heal you simultaneously.

© Sylvie Hill 2013

Art: Juan Carlos Noria | dixon tile for Neurotitan Group Show, Berlin (2010)