Past experience may well
rear its ugly head again,
as will his look of indignance
at my shameless flippancy.
It's just a crock of shit,
pretend play at happy families,
like when I say
for the 10th time today
''I love you too''.
And I daren't give that a thought,
but too late,
because in that nanosecond
the pit of my stomach felt the lie,
and my soul it ate it right up
and will only grow
when I turn in and face this truth.
So I do this 'well anyhow shrug thing,
and float along with what is,
settle for my 'lot in life',
and I argue to myself....
''well, anyhow, (see what I mean)
why should I be so lucky,
who on earth truly meets 'the one',
what are the chances,
and luck, well thats just
something we say
when we don't know what the hell is going on''
We talk about 'moments' well this poem is a moment
and I'm going to do what I guess
a lot of us do and
pretend I never had it..
Lines 26 ,27, 28 provided by Frank James Davis