The woman you think
Is the love of your life
Is only a way to get
To New York City.
I probably shouldn’t
Say that until she leaves
You. Because you will
Hate me if I say it now.
You “love” “her” so
Much. You are lavishing
A lifetime of unexpressed love
On this poor expressionless
Child. She can barely feel.
And you, you narcissist,
You can only feel yourself.
If you really loved her,
You would try to help her.
But in the end, I’m glad
You spent your energies
Writing love poems and
Trying to transform your love
Into art. It worked out
For you. FSG will buy it
Even though it’s juvenile.
You’d believe that before
You’d believe she’ll leave you.
In six weeks. Without a trace.
Saying: You don’t know who
You are. And besides you’re not
Butch enough for me.
As if you wouldn’t make yourself
Into anything for her.
Had she only said she wanted it.
Luckily for you, she didn’t.
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