Poem: March twenty-fifth

Where is the good
in any of this?
I look at you.
You look away.

Why do you blame
when there’s no sin?
Your eyes speak loud
in hard judgement.

I didn’t do;
You didn’t ask.
I should have known.

Hey – you know what?
Not my mistake.
Mind-reading was
never my strength.

You seem able
to speak your mind
clearly and loud
full of anger.

How about this?
Never assume
I’m inside your head
waiting to please.


Shall we have a conversation?

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