PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I was trained to state the facts.

And that was honorable...for a while.



I was trained not to love.

He died, she left and I can't even trust myself.



And in the South, we are polite and I was comfortable with that.



And secretly I let it go and when I got nothing in return I knew that my training would come in handy.



I was even trained to laugh. I could time my chuckles appropriately...



And in the end when my whole life is presented to me, like a two dollar movie on a torn screen, I will understand that training is nothing.



And my last breathe will be taken, regretting every perfect moment I spent training myself not to love you.