The ink hadn’t even dried yet
The tears dripped onto it
Making the writing smear
So only I could tell
What it said
I guess he couldn’t focus on me
He couldn’t quite see through the dust
He liked the part where I gave my heart
But his favorite part of it was lust.
So many knocking on his door
Asking if they may please come in
That someone he had to invest in,
Well, he didn’t know where to begin.
He cannot focus through the flesh
He has ringing his phone
At all hours
Of the day and night.
The writing still says the truth
There is no reason to have it removed.
Why remove my truth
Just because you insist
On living a lie?
I really like this. So incisive and so mature – like its a path too often trodden for the young of this generation.
Thank you very much for your comment. It is often trodden by the young, which is a shame.