Saturday, January 7, 2017

How Abashed One is to Find Oneself So Easily De-Boned

Terrible to sever heaven from a heart –
although as you succumb to understanding
what had just lubriciously colluded with your hope,
maliciously created this scenario, this promise

of alluring interlude, the prospect of a lover who’d
convinced you he would prove to love (or anyway
pretend to) just enough to stay the night – at least
you’ve learned, with all its yet and yet and after,

severing’s a cunning art. Again (you dope) you lost
the part: cold-shouldered by the covert soulless
laughter in his eyes, despising, through a show
of caring for, the profitless silly scene of you.

The putative love would not remain.
Queasily quick, it crashed in the brain,
left your unusable body behind,
un-drained, maligned, disowned.

How abashed one is 
to find oneself
so easily de-boned.


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