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J. Jones Poem
She obsessed over everything inconsequential: the pots and pans, the cake batter, the
turkey and gravy.
She sent him out into the night to purchase various items, squandering precious time that
could have/should have been spent inside his arms, his heart.
She steered him towards sexual famine.
She failed to solidify her position making it ever easier for an interloper, another more
willing, more accommodating female to supersede her.
He had made mention of this/these persons standing in the wings.
He had a timeline.
She was overly tentative.
Love is not a spectator activity.
Copyright © J. Jones | Year Posted 2010
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