Your Thirst to
Prove your Point Poetically
Renders your Readers
No Less than Restless.
Your Habitual Discontent
and Relentless Resistance
towards Reoccurring Romance
has Resulted in a Reputation
Resembling that
of a Dissatisfied Bachelor.
You Say You Never Play the Game
Yet You Continue
Auditioning the Players-

And I’m a Rhymesayer.
This Language Leaks From Me
Even When I am So Empty-
Poetry’s Fumes
Free-Flow From my Fingertips
Often Surprising my
Intentional Blind Eye-
Forcing my
“Everything’s Fine”
Mind
to Define
Feelings I Try
to Forget or Deny.

Without Words
I’d be Worthless.
Wordless.
Lost, Mixed up,
Worn out and Weary-
a Waste
of What Would Otherwise
be Welcomed as
Wonderful Womanly
Warmth.