PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

i wonder what she thinks

i say to myself



after all, she has no problems

in not seeing me for weeks

and that is how she loves me



i say to myself

is that how she loves everyone



i write 600 poems to say

we have a wonderful life

but when i am muttering alone



it's not poetry



it's not martinis and kisses

or flowing down the rapids

of sexual delight



when she says 'i love you'

and perhaps too easily

and too often without

the well know comforting

time togeter, i begin to say

disparaging thoughts to

my own self-interest



i offer to trade up the love

for the weeks she spends

with old boyfriends



i would barter a couple kisses

to maybe not be the one dropped

for a concert in vermont



and i wonder, to myself of course

why do i have so much time to talk to myself