Sunday, August 24, 2014

Maybe at You

I wasn't laughing. Well, maybe at you
And your ridiculous display of cheer
In that dilapidated atmosphere
Of laissez-faire, the champagne rendez-vous
She craved — a woman who was never true,
Whose motives, heart, and eyes were never clear,
Who called you Darling, Lover, Sweetie, Dear,
But never kissed you — slattern, spider, shrew.

You vilified me, and you have the right
To claim whatever pops into your head,
But I remember everything you said
Since we were little boys, hanging on tight
To keep from falling off the world. Tonight
Our hearts are empty, and the moon has fled.

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