I called Hannah twice to hear her say I love your taste, but she said nothing.
I would never change any part of me just to make her stay.
Hannah always teased, but she'd never leave.
Right? I mean, right?
I saw her, sunglasses covered her eyes, suntanning by the pool, with a face wrapped for a suitor. A face wrapped for me and only me.
I called Hannah twice to hear her voice—to listen to her say I love your taste, but these days I would rather do nothin'.
I would never change any part of me just to make Hannah stay.
What's this?—she says that we need a break?
I would never change any part of me just to make Hannah stay.
Hannah called me twice to hear me say I loved her nude, but she didn't say nothin'.
This dead-end town is just a memory of a time when solace matched serenity,
And when the stars aligned in her eyes.
I'd never change any part of you just to make you stay.
YOU ARE READING
The Lonely Position of Neutral
PoetryBen's throat cancer has returned. Living a lonely life, he found a woman he loves but finds out she's been unfaithful. Ben starts to think the lonely position of neutral isn't that bad. He writes poems and dialogue narratives. Will Ben survive cance...
