BY JOHN GREY
Copyright is held by the author.
I would not say
I’m sick of you
and don’t wish
to ever see you again.
Nor would I
ridicule your pathetic friends,
deride your stupid beliefs,
vilify your every numbskull action.
I may even
keep the poems I wrote for you.
With minor alterations, of course.
Like a name change here and there.
I won’t scoff at the tepid sex,
curse your tasteless cooking,
debase your pale attempts
at intelligent conversation.
I’m not the kind
to rehash the misery,
the pain, the humiliation,
of our time together.
I’ve always been one for whom
an appalling past
should remain dead and buried,
I may not even write this poem.
***
John Grey is an Australian poet, U.S. resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, Leaves On Pages and Memory Outside the Head and Guest of Myself are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis and Blueline.
Not that kind of guy, indeed.:) Well done!
Good on you John. I liked this.