Love is impatient with me.
Love is unkind to me.
It is so proud.
Love was once rude, it sought only itself
and then was easily angered.
It remembered every mistake
I made, and recorded every wrong.
And never let me forget it.
And for a time
Love even delighted in the evil
of leaving me unrequited.
It rejoiced in everyone's deceit.
Now Love abandons me,
it denies me still--
Somehow it lost faith in me,
and it gave up.
I guess it's because I always fail.
Tickle your toes. . .
where are my garden gloves to weed out your evils? where are my rubber gloves to scrub off your stupid? where are my surgical gloves to cut ...
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I swing in a mini skirt and pill box hat, cat-eyes and pompadour hair, wild in my Stiletto-heeled shoes- and I skulk in a monk dress with th...