End Of The Line.Mature

19th July 2011

They call this
Poetry. This mismatched mess.
But I like
Rhyme and rhythm the best.

They call this
Love. this thing so untrue.
But I don't
B'lieve it's love for us two.

They say that we
Should just talk it out.
But I think
I would just start to shout.

You don't want
Talk. You could have done that.
I walked a-
Way. In your face I spat.

He fooled with
You. You tried to tell me.
I did not
Get. That it would be he.

He says I'm
Hurt. Yet hurt I don't feel.
Proof that my
'Love' perhaps is not real.

But you won't
Talk. You won't say a word.
Your feelings
Go completely unheard.

So here I'm sitting
Just waiting for you
To show that your loving
Could actually be true.

Or could this be, dear,
The end of the line?
I don't know my darling...
Your silence is unkind. 

The End

28 comments about this poem Feed