I could write a hundred poems,
each one could paint a horrid picture of you.
But not one could make these feelings
disappear.
And you know what?
That ******* *****.
I'll just be a slave.
not to you-
but to time.
Waiting for this to disappear.
I hope you see this and realize something.
Some sort of direction-
be it to leave or to make amends.
I keep smiling and trying to love.
Unconditionally.
Like I've been- all this time.
But all I do is make a fool of myself.
Three times.
Shame on me.