Two new poems for the lovers fighters, emotional biters, argument igniters…OK, OK, I’m done.
wrong-feels-righters
romance smiters
out-all-nighters
Or not. I wasn’t done.
Either way, hope you like the below plays with language. You know how I do.
Her and Him
If I am not she,
then I am not
and so it is and shall be,
she with him,
and her as me.
But I’ll be a she,
eventually,
perhaps,
as a her can only hope
a he
will love her.
And him,
him’ll soon realize,
that she was never what him wanted,
that her was what him needed,
his past, once she,
was then completed,
and in him’s lack of faith,
him’s chance defeated,
for her had found a he,
and him had found a hole in she,
where her would have been needed.
If you didn’t like the above version, here’s another:
His-tory
Sometimes boys will leave you
for their past,
and you’ll feel sad until you realize,
when the pain comes back full blast,
they’ll again need you,
feed you lines as if to please you,
and you’ll say “no.”
You’ve found a man to guard you from the blow—
the boy now pushed into history,
until you miss him,
leave your current man to kiss him,
because history repeats itself,
a heart defeats itself,
and a brain,
well,
it stops thinking.