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Brent Bozeman Poem
Her - Prayer of a Bewildered Poet
Slowly, softly, with the Truth, crush me!
She doesn’t exist, does she?
“Her,” a construct?… my own intimate imagery?
Some romantic symphony?…
Existing only in my memory?…
Now just another misery, ..of my own making?
Her, is not there, not anywhere!… Is she?
How dare you Create me this way!?…
The kind so prone to excruciating fantasy!?
In the end, always just me,
the letters have been sent on,
wild, free, is all I’m ever allowed to be.
Never Home, never again, tell the Truth…
will I be?
Copyright © Brent Bozeman | Year Posted 2025
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