At a low point
Am I garnish?
Decorative nothingness?
Neither nourishing, nor tasteful?
I dangle on his arm
Wastefully
My charm
My tits
His luck,
Fully on display
Without a mouth to
Fuck
Up his witty repartee
With potential carnal competition
Whom he pays careful attention
She speaks. He listens
Long enough to fantasize
About the stuffing 'tween her thighs
In the kitchen
They meet
And she's the meat
Whilst I'm the bitter leaf tossed aside
A night at his side
I'm not even a side-dish
Dished aside
I sidle up beside
My faithful two-sided sidekick
She decides to claim my side
But she hides behind her "best friend" smile
That beguiling
Grin that whispers, "trust me"
All the while
Her whiles are fending
For themselves, sending
Soft, "You can have me" signals floating in airwaves
The ding dong of her text jingle
Singular, but not "singular"
She single-thumbedly types,
"If you were only single"
Stick a fork in me I'm Dumb
Dumb
Found dead
Struck breathless, with a knife in my back
A large knife
The knife that grows with love
And I fed it, and fed it
Now I'm bled
Dry
Of trust
High above these creatures of
Lust
No bigger than a mustard seed
I'm bigger than they are
Though they'll grow fatter
And flatter
My waistline
I'll waste no more lines on them
It's time to begin again
The situation sucks but the poem is awesome :)
That's a pretty piece of work, my dear. I'm sorry for the cause of it, but your words seem to make me think that you are moving on, and they're not worth your time. And you're right. They're not.
Of course, if you ever want to have a comfort coffee, ice cream, chocolate cream pie, you can always look us up. :)
We'd be more than happy to see you.
Much love,
M
Lies. :-(
personally I dont think anyone should be treated like meat. But I was always raised to be extra polite to women, open doors pull out chairs and such. but these days being old fashoned rarely impresses
Wow. Like, wow. You're a freakin' poetry type and I had no idea.
How retarded is that?!?