- Non-Erotic Poetry
- crime scene
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She loves me
She loves me not
impossible to tell
One petal from another
After the pull apart
Destroying things of beauty
till all and all ever after
Is the memory
Of the impression
The dull echo
Of the words
Forever
Which truth?
Which deciet?
They all look the same
a pile of petals
fallen to the floor
Waiting
As they are
to be blown away
left behind
at best
Pressed in a book
And maybe
Discovered later on
I am so sick of lies
And having to lie
not knowing what is a lie
And what is the truth
Hold me sam spade
Hold me
She may say
But I too am weary
And I can’t forget
That she was one
Who had the perfect gun
Way back in chapter one
Killing because she could
Someone who tried to help
Ms understanding her
If I am to survive
I must remember this
As I call the cops
To come and take her away
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