This sexy mistress had me hooked
like your bra, which I fiddled with
without expertise.
She took me to all the places
I saw myself with you.
She told me you loved me,
again and again,
and again I am writing,
because she told me
you would read the pages.
Somewhere along the line
I must have mixed up what it means.
I do it for you and for me, everybody
I have ever known, loved, or scorned.
I had no idea it would push me this far
into a plane of existence
where my thoughts are limitless,
but my work is useless.
The thing is I am a poet.
I can't just tell you I'm in love
with the way you hold yourself.
I have to describe it,
and hide that description as close to my heart,
as I can in your presence.
I can make you famous here
with my own words,
and that's all she grants me.
We could have it all,
but this is all I have to offer,
and while I write you again and again,
you have nothing to gain.
She has cursed me
with this forlorn expression
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Thresheld
PoesíaMy life is a series of thresholds that I overcome through poetry. Love, loss, pain, regret, humor, irony, word play, and even sarcasm are as much apart of my life as they are central to my poems here. I am Thresheld. UPDATE: It's been quite a few ye...
