On Mis-Understanding
Dear Miss,
Why, and how can you be so understanding when I fail?
Your skin now somehow pale,
I feel our ship has sailed/bailed all hopes for drifting to
—shore!
I can adore a sad thing to death.
I can breathe knowing I’ve already had–
that ole familiar last–
Breath.
So, Dearest Miss,
How do you cope with m e?!?
How do you put up with all my slovenly debris?
I know you understand me virtually better than I, me.
So, take what I offer to you as that which I am.
I will soon become more.
More of a man.
And know, I will forever adore...
Pale as your skin becomes,
I am up for gins and rums.
You can meet me half way.
I’ll let you beat my drums.
I’ll stutter 'cause I know not whaich words to say.
So today Miss,
Understand this:
My love is boundless and it flows in our ravine.
I may act Nice– I’m usually so damn mean.
I don’t need to freeze in the cold.
I don’t need a horror movie scene.
I am eternally, sold~ Out.
For your-love.
