even when we were together
you never wrote for me.
your poetry was about any number
of mundane things
but not of love; or if so, love abstract
not of me.
i didn’t inspire – i was only “good enough”
that’ll do, i suppose.

is it now so hard to believe
that i could inspire another?
is it me at all? or have you
given up on love?
a single prophesy – hope extinguished.
i won’t take it personally
though perhaps i should.

share this: Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmail