this time
you do not come to me in a dream
you do not turn up at my door
there is no hysterical slam-down call
no hurried steps upon my floor
this time
no
rather you slink through and out the back
send your pristine petulant pettiness
on its neat way so you can be free
to come out and play
for a while
and drop by my page
to drool oblique impeccabilities
at me in that casual cowardly
slant that is yours truly
oft times you busily nurse
another hurt feeling
with wet and toxic breast
until it dies its martyr death
such a bloody fest you know
your best
should you look in the mirror
do you see you?
do you see one coward heart
or do you also see two?
seasofme290912obsess
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in the mean time time i am not sure being brave is all it is made out to be.
YOU ARE READING
body
Poetrymy personal favourites in one book. these all come from older collections. hardly any of the media belong to me
