Love is impatient with me.
Love is unkind to me.
It envies.
It boasts.
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.
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Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
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Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
Poets United Contributor
This is very good. I like the take on the Corinthians verse, very creative.
ReplyDeleteWe all fail, many times. Love is elusive. If you find it, great!
Thanks for commenting on my log.
Paul
Thanks for the same :)
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