Perplexed
She had begged me to meet her here,
knowing full well; I'd never decline.
But it's now past midnight and raining,
and yet, she swore she'd be here by nine.
Trying to understand her is like
trying to light a damp cigarette.
And the more anxious I am to try,
the more frustrating my attempts get.
Her excuses are nonsensical,
teetering on the edge of insane.
And I've stopped trying to outguess her
as she deals in both pleasure and pain.
She is a genuine conundrum,
specializing in leaving me vexed.
And in the end, I have little choice
but to walk away feeling perplexed.
(Quatrain)
4/22/2015
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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