My Rare Lady

I WILL NOT CRY OVER SPILLED SILK MY RARE LADY ‘twas perfectly fair what the fair lady had to say And so I grieve not her making her away Look………she tried But a junkie’s tracks cannot be belied Yes, I can be verbose so I don’t at all blame her Because that would be an utter shame for her She’s too mercurial a soul to put up with too much for too long And the lady wasn’t wrong I’m like a curse That only gets worse It festers, it bleeds, it oozes steaming tar and flat champagne And if I haven’t, as yet, made myself plain The lady gave it her all But sooner or later some statues must fall So before erosion effects the figurine of a lady whose words touch me so Even I know the lady must go , © 2011.…..Phreepoetry ~free cee!~