You've Made Your Bed. Let Me Remain on Mine

Yeah, I'm awake, I guess. I don't know.
I do know I don't want to hear your
Complaining. You left me for him.
He seemed nice. He had money,
But now you feel cornered. You say
You're mistreated. I'm sorry, a little,
But I've no desire to get out of bed,
And come rushing to have you smear
Make-up on my shirt and douse me
With tears, and, in fact, I won't even
Say you can come here. Time moves
But one way. What I felt has ended.
It cannot be kindled again.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 40 times
Written on 2021-10-27 at 19:43

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