Tea & Oranges

Leonard  Cohen and I need to talk.

He basically destroyed me.

I think he knew and loved a crazy girl once and she must have hurt him, bad. She was crazy and that clearly implies- best lover the poor guy ever had. Her tendrils wrapped around his finger and her broken pieces unfurled like a churlish bitch- you haven’t met yet.

I was born in the wrong skin, too thick in some places, and my intentions just plain too thin. His Suzanne and I were probably friends. I was born two decades too late bereft of almost anything innocent by the time I was 8.

But his songs they call witness to something inside me- his words a lullaby to all of my crazy- there is little hope any other will understand, or ever appreciate these things in me. Does your Suzanne still feed you? Are you there when she needs you?

tea and oranges