Friday, August 7, 2015

I don’t love you

Care for a drink with this pennyless wordsmith?
Only if shaken not stirred with your heart.
I guffawed with my giant inhibitions,
You giggled with small proclamations.

Yes, it was more beautiful than a Fitzgerald novel,
Yet that was about the most novel part of all.
You stifled my voice, you crushed my emotions,
Yes, you devised my mental castration.

My misery was not for you to judge,
The history had clearly not taught you much.
Your arrogance created a fog of falsehood,
I did not identify anymore the gentle womanhood.

I don’t hate you like those before,
Maybe repetition has calmed me down more.
I strum my fungusful guitar, I stroke my broken piano keys,
No, I am not writing a melody but your forsaken eulogy.

Damn! You for all those years of mine,
Curse you for not showing your true spine.
You had no right to leave me so early,
The promise was to be together in even a death so grisly.