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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