deal

I can’t deal

with how I feel,

So I write it down.

I write prose in rhymes

but its growing, in the amounts of times

that I write sweet prose to you –

to express why and how I just feel the way I do

it is a rare kind of torture,

one I’ve never quite known before;

and I must confess if I were Chinese,

I’d probably use it more!

Oh!

Not on myself, of course!

Its sheer torture, don’t you see?

No, it’s not one I’d ever choose to

torment anyone, except an enemy!

I wish

you knew that I can’t help

What’s happened to my head (or to my heart)!

So I’ll blame it all on you,

because you were there

When this did start!

So, I’ll blame it all

on you!

Why

Did you have to be so beautiful?

Why did you have to sit with that “blank stare”?

Why did I have to feel for you, in all your lonesomeness, sitting there?

Why did I ever bother to stop and say “hello”?

Why did the “peace” we wished each other

turn into, “Oh no! Please just go!”

What happened to civility?

What happened to the love ~ I mean the Godly kind

That the preacher man speaks of?

Why did it get so “weird”?

why don’t you think it strange that

we can’t even say “hello”?

I wonder if St. Anthony

could find where

it did go.

© 2011 All rights reserved, Amelia