As much as I tried to stand-by
you, I can’t any-longer so this
Too often I say goodbye upon
goodbye only to look back and
be disappointed again like Lut’s
wife. Not anymore though, you’re
simply history and I wish you well
Trust me on this!
This time I march on and I say
goodbye till infinity,
so in the month before March
do not expect happy birthday,
nor for me to be there in
times of trouble.
Like the mirror is a trigger for your thoughts; my mind is the affirmative bullet for your insecurities.
Times like this make me wonder
why I’m still stuck on her, is it the sex…hmm.. no it’s not the sex probably because she was the first, and I her’s, but c’mon now bro that was a long time ago and I’m sure she don’t think of you the way you do of her!
This is a disease certainly, I mean
it has to be. Poetry is a disease, and
the cure is more poetry. Sometimes I go for a walk; sit in cold air as I air my thoughts just to flush her out of my head till there’s none left; only to get back home and see her lying on the bed.
So I grab her as the pen and the sheets as the paper for my writings. Then I say to myself this is it; then I erase the traces of her on paper and in mind, for my memory is my weakness and without, you simply do not exist.