Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Life Is Not..Sorry

Coming to see, and maybe to be,
Liking what I see, seems right to me.
Slim, trim as a tree, green as a pea,
Why he likes brie, even pretends
to like my art and poetry; wine,

and thinks I am stunning, it was
all for a muse. Thought a cause
good; to return to humanity to be
if only maybe, someone to love me?
obtuse it was so hid and sublime.

A year flew by and it was exhausting.
no time to show what I want is pleasing
to me. Just all the how to-s, his teasing.
Seems his maturity is still in schooling.
Just settle for everything seeming fine;

to my surprise and I could not even see:
let me say a lot more was in my head, gee.
Throughout this ordeal I was the greenly.
Just a game is what I was a last minute tea.
It was serious for me! To try one last time.

How could he know, to be one of the boys
you hurt the woman, treat them like toys.
All the while his controls were only ploys.
Almost; all out I went, now spent, my joys.
Stunning poet, left numb, should be a crime.

Sharon Rose T. ©