Why do I give kisses to those who
turn and go?
How can I be so superior
and share it all with someone who discards me?
My pride:
so tied to
a number.
Dot your i’s and cross your t’s
No one else thinks of your tallies
(you know I hate misplaced apostrophes)
What’s a score board?
Where’s the line to “*****”
Especially when I’ve already whispered fantasies
and profanities to the one who thinks he knows
…and held my secrets…
and glimpsed my soul—-