A poem.

Sounding something like a lover I turn to you

In the middle of the morning’s brace I turn to you and

share with you what I need from you

Then you say with a start:

“Sounding something like a loser I run from you

In the morning, in the evening even while sleeping and

I wouldn’t dare give to the likes of you

my precious heart”

©2010  J. K. Bradford

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