Poetic Fiction


If you’re in no hurry to go

then I’m in no hurry to stay

I’ll pack up my belongings

and be out by the end of the day


You can’t ever keep a job

Or even wash the clothes

Our meals served at the drive-thru

That’s where the money goes


The few dollars that remain

Is always spent on ink

The few hours that we share

Always your time to think


You lock yourself in a room

There you laugh, scream and cry

While I long for the silence

When one of us will die


If not for crumpled notes

Our stove would be always cold

Your hot and chilled emotions

Once steamy have gotten old


We haven’t kissed in a week

There’s been no love for a year

I’ve now begun to wonder

If love was ever there


Now you say you wrote a poem

That all the world should see

It’s a poem of love and devotion

But this one’s just for me


If these words of passion

Are as true as you say

Rumpled sheets await

There’s no need to leave today


But if they’re not

as all other times before

My future will unfold

beyond your paper door



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