a lover is supposed to make
you gaze at the world with
wonder- - - and spot all the
beautiful prognosis of life.
why is it that, instead, you
make me gaze at the flowers
and wonder how they, to,
will end up crunching my
heart in a mindless
ggggyration
of hips
I blessed the flowers upon your
dispersal, and you tell me I should
have sunk into sad indifference- -
that feelings hurt your feelings.
my eyes glaze over in reckless abandon
to whatever sanity I once achieved.
you did this to us.
you did this to us.