Close, but No CigarCall me. I'm close by, and though
I'm not the sort of tanned and muscled
God you want, I'll put my arms around
You, and I'll fix you dinner. I will
Listen as you tell me what he did
And why you left, and why your
Brittle heart has broken, thinking
All the while that you would have
Been much better off with me.
You've never felt that way. Oh, well.
Here, have some mostaccioli. Nap
On my, as yet, unsullied hammock.
Stay. I'll gaze at you, and, when you
Leave, I'll try to tell myself that you're
Still searching for a love, while I am
Searching for a reason to continue
Living, knowing that you'll never
Ache for me. The meals I serve,
The ears I offer, aren't enough to do
The trick. I'll always just be close
And safe. I probably should go.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 48 times
Written on 2020-07-18 at 04:11
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