Syrup to Vinegar

I have spent the day alone, and liked it
Better than I would have if I'd spent
The day with her. There's no denying
What this means. The syrup's gone
To vinegar. The endless reasons to be
Sad, the silences, the utter lack of
Interest in what I am or what I've
Done, have wearied me. How much
Less happy will she be when I no
Longer come to her? How much
Less happy can she be? She never
Laughs. She doesn't smile. My
Pronouncements of affection,
Seemingly appreciated, never were
Returned to me, so, now, I'm more
Content alone, and thinking I'd be
Doing better bringing laundry to the
Cleaners, where the woman at the
Counter smiles and speaks, and seems
To want to know something of me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 56 times
Written on 2015-06-11 at 23:57

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