Same Boy, Different Day
I love you
and I miss you
and I really
really wish you
would see the pain
behind my eyes,
this unbridled love
I cannot disguise
that draws me to
write bad poetry,
an act I know unwise
as this is a notion
of the being of my heart
and this wickedly cold ocean
has done nothing but
tear my sails when
I need them most;
when I stand before men
who know my secrets
and have seen my grief
and still they remain idiotic;
their passion merely brief
in a time when I only wish
for elongated desire, not
some indolent bitch
who has rotted
up his soul
then used his false intentions
and my despondency to bowl
down every dream I had
of a happy family
and a kind, loving dad
who knows his wife
and would never say
he regrets his life
when in fact he means
that he regrets me.
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