I shall be telling this with a sigh.

Lately I come to real-eyes that
I am a selfish poet,
An awful poet
With no care for others
The type of poet that only see
His pain and sorrow,
And ignore all on the horizon
at least that what’s
Being painted on my sky
A poet that thinks and write
his stories only in black
Thinking that the silence belongs to him.

I threw away a love
because it was one sided;
she was not the girl for me
because I have decided.

She was just a dear friend
not the love I wanted;
but we grew too close together
and her pleasant body taunted.

I threw away a love
like tissue I've discarded;
she was too possessive
I left her broken-hearted.

She was like a clinging vine
when I escaped her clutch;
I didn't miss her then
and now, too, not much.

I threw away a love
it was a one-way street;
she was just a friend
I happened to just meet.

Must we go on like this?
no embrace, no kiss?
must we fight once more?
when will you walk out the door?
Leaving me and love behind
with someone else for me to find
can't we reconcile the past
and rescue out lost love at last?
Must we go on like this?
ignoring things that once we missed?
passing each other in silence
all that's left is violence.
First the slap, then the push
no more beating round the bush
leaves a sad and tragic ending
that is way past mending.
Must we go on like this?
what happened to the marriage bliss?
I sit and ponder, think and muse
the day it all went down the tubes.