Cute Explosion
It was a cute explosion, an anomaly,
Something the press would like:
My puppy and you locked in an embrace
On your bike.
But my fame as a poet had grown too much,
We weren’t rhyming anymore, you and me:
I blamed our hormones; you, you blamed my
Obsession with death and alliteration
And like a million others, I wondered;
Who gets the puppy?
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2016
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