deepundergroundpoetry.com
I Cannot Continue To Beg
I marvel at the mystery I find in you,
Yet I feel hurt as though I can feel the sting in your soul
Every time I try to make contact again.
I have my own pile of bones in my closet,
And one of them is clearly labeled “REJECTION.”
And I’m too old to feel this way anymore,
Too old to be writing monologues to ghosts.
You are but an evanescent attachment
That brings me an empty bowl when I beg for food.
Please forgive me, but I cannot continue to beg.[/b]
Yet I feel hurt as though I can feel the sting in your soul
Every time I try to make contact again.
I have my own pile of bones in my closet,
And one of them is clearly labeled “REJECTION.”
And I’m too old to feel this way anymore,
Too old to be writing monologues to ghosts.
You are but an evanescent attachment
That brings me an empty bowl when I beg for food.
Please forgive me, but I cannot continue to beg.[/b]
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