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"I wasn’t born a compassionless shrew. I used to be sort of nice, you know."

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Sunday, August 30, 2009
strawberry kisses mar my flesh
visions of previous betrayal haunts
times when love was conditional

only if
only if

only if you kiss me
only if you unbutton your blouse
only if you get down on your knees

keepsake beliefs turn to dust
ideas flame and ash at contact with you
all rationale departs me

this contempt is mutual
although yours more aggressive

so tender feelings turn hard
at the loss of our affection
strawberry kisses mar my flesh
only ifs haunt me

our love is over
and I am lost.

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