Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Poetry, Writing

Day 330


I pretended for two months
That I’d never been in love.
I handed her prosecco
With my hand in a white glove.

I tried to make her want me
But she just looked straight past,
Like it was too much effort,
Like she knew I wouldn’t last.

It was lust in the first instance
A case of false emotion
With too many words
And a hatful of devotion.

She never understood
Why my head was going bald,
That the thumb print was hers
That all I felt was old.

It was only when we squandered
What little faith we had
That she became more faithful
And I became more bad.

We ran around in circles
On the last day of that year,
Me in my best black skinnies
And she in her worst fear.

It was over after that day
And I never asked her back,
While she went to her boyfriend
With easy lies and a cold snack.

R 26/11/2022 18:36

The result of listening to a lot of rhyming narrative music today. Don’t know if it works, but it doesn’t really matter.




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