Superstar and Supergirl

Superstar and Supergirl

In the back of a black limousine

Driver strives to look ahead

As backseat action turns obscene


Mama and Papa on the couch

As the kids are cradled in sleep

He wants some lovin’ but she does not

So it happens and the pain is deep


One look inside that raggy mag

Bodies barely covered in brands

Will that designer get you laid?

Only the register understands


So the video was shot

The pages were printed

The sex was smokin’ hot

But love is limited


The thighs are entwined

The bones together crack

When sex is business

Love becomes the lack


But when they hold their hands

And walk into the store

Love flourishes in there

And there is forever more


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway


Sacrifices of Love

They swim like the ghosts of sharks

How many of them did I slaughter

Naivete, sexual and mercurial

What I did to feel wanted


I look for their skeletons, their skulls

Invisible in the digital age

No social media, no obituary

Just phantoms slinking in my head


Their families leave no trace

Brothers, sisters, all disappeared

I’d cry but my eyes are broken

Karma found me and I am hollow


People rattle their bones for a buck

Lacerate me with a rusty knife

Bleed and infect, with only worms

And bacteria for my last meal


I release their spirits again

And settle into my beloved’s arms

Knowing how he benefits

From their sacrifices of love


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway

Broken Chair

“What do I have to do

To prove I love you?” he said.

The back of the chair is gone,

The spindles broken off.


Violence Is not love


I walk past the chair,

Afraid, guilty, ashamed.

He broke the chair

In front of her last night.

The seat and legs survived.


I sit on the seat, sad and alone


This is my life, my reality.

Words will be said,

Perpetuated in the neurons,

Dragged into the feeling

Of the paddles in my hands.


I didn’t deserve this


It took a long time

But it did get better.

I do see that chair

With the back broken off,

And I hand my shame

Back into his hands.


Violence is not love


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway