Why is it ?, you choose to avoid what tomorrow brings.
Can it be because of your tale ?, - in sorrow, it sings
a melancholy song of past pain, pain you want not again –
in fear of experiencing one more time – so you refrain
from any kind of commitment to men, to me,
beyond the superficiality, the shallowness that I see
is this game you play ?, far to much negativity
you throw at me – word stilettos, into my heart,
your tongue, a sword cutting deep – it being oh so sharp!
Years have slipped by, a promise from you of nothing.
Montreal, New York State, a fleeting moment, something
promising British Columbia, all became dust, barren.
The winds of hope died that day, not a whisper, not carin,
whether or not I cherish those blissful moments in time
or live in regret, for years, without you – as my rhymes
tell you – in a quandary !, I am left wondering what to do
about my love, my friendship, my desire for you.
B. J. “A” 2
June 9th 2008
Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield