a tale of tails, tenacity, and tedium, as told by me, usually barefoot and bellowing

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Not A Love Poem

Written for Sunday's Whirligig
It was the birthday
of resentments
each move 
choking 
eroding
no take backs
no open gates here
no sparks
no dazzling smile 
for you
I pared 
my love 
to stumps
move on!
before 
i remember
where 
i hid the weapons
i
forgot
to 
say
you
can 
rot
for
all 
i
care

6 comments:

Cressida de Nova said...

Oooo. glad you got that off your chest:)

Susan Kane said...

You sure know how to pair rotting and weapons. Proud of you.

Lynne said...

Whew . . . eroding . . . rotting . . .
Like you said, not a Love Poem . . .

Jae Rose said...

I love the format - somehow reminded me of a sword in combination with those fierce and wonderful words.

Sandra said...

i like this one a lot.. you said it ALL

McGuffy Ann Morris said...

I like this one. Creative and very to the point!

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