|Her (standard:poetry, 184 words)|
|Author: Leonard Becker||Added: Dec 16 2000||Views/Reads: 2367/2||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A poem about two girls|
I wish she wasn't here. But if she wasn't, I'm sure I'd wish she was. And the fact of it is, She isn't here. The true her is here, But the her I love isn't. It's as thought the her I love Just quit the other day. Left for South Africa or D-Town or wherever... And the true her is silly. Not silly in the "make me laugh" kinda way, But silly in the "Why the fuck am I talking to you" kinda way. Yes You're beautiful, and Yes I could probably find myself in love with you, maybe and YES You're smart and mysterious and poised and everything that altruistic mofo says. BUT YOU'RE TOO MUCH WORK, BABY, TOO MUCH FUCKING WORK! Do I mean that or Am I rationalizing? Is that the her I love laughing at me, or Was there any love there to begin with? Does the silly Childish Troubled Beautiful, true her ever look at me Without thinking back Or laughing Or cringing? Well, I just don't care. How's that fit ya? Either one of you girls can answer. Tweet
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