I grow very weary of gloppy lamentations of loves lost, not found, not real, whatever.


Seen in Natural Light

I suspect that, when I get to Cincinnati, and unpack
My bags, and pour up a drink, I'll get onto the web,
And she'll have been there, having bled out some
Nonsense about how our break-up was epic and
Tragic, when it was not. Undying love lying dead,
She may say. Wounds and woe, such sensitive
Feelings. In fact, we grew tired of each other
Together, and fought a few times, and fell apart.
I'll log off and go look for dinner. I'll eat, and I
Won't regret anything. What's done is done.
I will think of the future, not of the past, and, so,
I am certain, will she.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 19 times
Written on 2011-07-10 at 15:48

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