As Asked, I Buzzed Off

I don't circle her now, the way that I
Did in the winter, like a mosquito,
Helplessly coming to be slapped down,
Which I was in the spring, and, wonder
Of wonders, maybe I'm too old, maybe
Too weak, but I loosened my grip.
I simply acknowledged that she didn't
Love me. She never would, and, though
She has returned, I don't think that I
Love her. I still think she's perfect,
Beautiful, sweet, but not worth
Any effort. I've flown away. I'll
Find somebody else, other blood.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 16 times
Written on 2010-09-15 at 00:43

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