Post no more poems,
He tells me
Even ones not about her
She’ll think they are
anyway
full of fatherly advice,
licking his lips
like a salamander
trying to catch flies,
his mouth desperately dry
even after repeated sips of coffee,
his gaze searching elsewhere
but for what I cannot say,
He looks scared,
And angry at me
For forcing him to
Confront feelings
He doesn’t want to feel
The feelings I feel,
Two old men
crooning over
“that young thing”
neither of us should love
but can’t help
when she could have
so many younger men
to please her better
“Don’t do anything to provoke her,” he says.
Only I can’t help myself.
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