Poetry Blogs (self-healing)

He loves me?
He loves me not?

Questions I have 
asked myself a lot 
since the day 
I said I do. 

Yes, he has a 
wandering eye,
avoids intimacy
like I am 
the blessed
Mother Mary.

Yes, he has a 
hair-trigger temper, 
can top Pinocho 
with his lies.

Our love is 
unconventional,
but I no longer
question why.

After four decades 
in the trenches,
I have learned 
to focu...

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Call me the doormat,

The infestation of rats,

The ‘oh she ain’t all that’,

Call the kettle black!

Call me the diva, the princess, the moan bag,

The emotional one, oh isn’t it sad?

The hot head who can only nag nag nag,

That period trainwreck – a handful for a lad.

Call me whatever deflects most from what reflects

When you stand by the mirror and boast,

When ...

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