Friday, January 22, 2016

In their love stories


Looking at the word
It was procrastination
Just what could I write?

How could I use it

Preferring romantic tales
Love and tenderness

Where's the poetry

In such a sad word as this
My mind's uncertain

Those tears in her eyes
There is no future with him
She tells him the truth

But he still has hope
And cannot accept goodbye
His love is so blind

So she lies to him
I am seeing someone else
He stares open mouthed

Men they are such fools
He's taken her for granted
So he pays the price

He was angry now
Both loving and hating her
Her eyes were fearful

Will he do her harm?
She wonders what she should do
So then she tells him

Let's both have a break
Play the field just to make sure
It is worth a try

So he nods sadly
Gullible as most men are
Kicks stones on way home

Every writer
Puts a little of themselves
In their love stories

Image found at www.psychologytoday.com

3 comments:

  1. Mine would be a very long story. Gullibility is my second name! Ah well, that's life.

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  2. How true. People always ask me if certain people are "me" in my stories.

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  3. Yes they do - the kicking stones seemed to ring out for me across the miles..question is how much do we put in...

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