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Poetry Book

You see me,
My passion,
my pain,
exposed and raw.
I contemplate whether I should
have laid bare my soul.

My heart is not your doormat
to carelessly trod upon.
If you care not, pass
me by.

I will not cater to your ego,
only to have you throw it
back into my face with
the turning of a page.

Your eyes roam my
body, your hands
rough me up.

You pause only
to see if what I say
is about you. You whose
feelings flood with self love.

You are shallow
a mere reflection of human.
No, don't reach out,
keep yourself company.

I am who I am,
but you see only dust,
a residue of age and
moth ravages.

Take care you, while you set me
back upon the shelf so carelessly.
I will be here as always waiting
for you to once again reach up,
take me down and cast
your eyes upon me with loathing.

1 comment:

Ambre said...

Well now, that there is one of Ambre's specialties!! The double entendre!

Great job!


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