After a month or two or three or four, I’ll finally admit I wanted you more

When we dated, I hated the Satan we created,

But being dumped has lumped those bumps into the rough, tough suffering of a motherfucker.

After a month or two or three or four, I’ll finally admit I wanted you more

Than I was willing—how thrilling and chilling,

But I was the villain, or maybe I still am.

 

The fast past we lasted unmasked a part of my heart; it started smarting.

That caressing mess tested this repressed hesitant lesser

Who now piles miles of style on humble, tumbling mumbles to crumble your wall, crawling his all

To your mind-wracking shack, where a taxing hacks dances without pants, hands landing in bands on yours, the shores of sores that hastened mace to our faces, disgracing us apace,

Then the end, when I bended to mend but you send us friends, me in tender shreds.

 

I’m sad and mad for a lad’s behavior, but you’re no savior.

It’s unfair, but sharing care would tear at you more, so formerly yours will be sore for the pair.

When you miss kissing me, sissy, I’ll be listening, glistening with desire, no liar—

Just a failed male who paled in your presence, too hesitant.

I’m told more bold would leave me cold but I’m old enough to scoff.

It’s rough to be cuffed to a shelf of hell. Who can tell when I’ll fell

For another lover who recovers my suffering.

Just empty space—dear Lord, what a waste! This place doesn’t taste of your scent so I’m bent with pent up emotion, an ocean of notions.

 

No lies, just a tired writer’s inspired cries,

Pining in lines to know you’re trying too—

It’s hard for you. You miss me and list me as a risk to stop kissing.

 

Now shown, I bemoan roaming the loneliest road,

No shores of your pores that tore at my core.

So hey, Lady grey, I’d pay you today: explain pain in a way

That tames this crew, say you I matter too.

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