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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems permission to use
provided by the author. |
Hardly a day goes by that I don't think of
you,
Mostly in anger, sometimes with hatred.
I loved you nearly half my life, and now
The bad has swallowed up the good, has eaten my heart.
How sad that I must bury so much of me!
I wish I could bury you.
The real, living you I don't want to hear about.
You were once what I lived for, and now
I don't even want to know when you are dead. |