Sunday, 15 January 2012

My love.

My love doesn't reply to my texts,
belittles me among friends,
and when we're alone she only
ever talks of other men.
My love is mine, half the time
My love doesn't want to go home
she wants to know where to go
when the pubs close.
My love's luck has ran out
her weight fluctuates
My love doesn't fit in
but hates standing out
My love has had enough of love
and wants to be someone else
She calls me at her worst
and only in poems do I confess
my urge to be hers
She's up to her neck in ugliness
and couldn't be more beautiful
for it.
She's beaten, down and out but can't
She's taken everything thrown at her
and moved forward.
My love has me chasing the high
of the first time seeing her
genuinely smile.
My love was mine
but it was only for a while.