You are not good for me
and yet I yearn for you.
How dare you walk away,
what right do you have to pocket my love
like a penny begged on a corner
without a backward glance?
What right do you have
to dance with strangers
while I await you like a school girl
drunk on a holiday
afraid she is about to lose her virtue
afraid the chance might pass her by?
What right do you have to be cold
and cruel?
The dance steps we perfected
of coming together and breaking away
have torn up the dance floor
so that I stumble,
my feet aching in
broken shoes.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
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