You used to cover your mouth and blush

At my ability to be frank and scathingly honest

It was not a quality and you were not an admirer

Yours was the shamefacedness I didn’t feel

Whilst you, were a well of loneliness

A secret not to be discovered.

When did I become

A crass innuendo girl?

The kind I’d be ashamed of

Was it the first time you turned away?

Or removed my seeking hand?

Or the fiftieth?

0 Replies to “When”

  1. I can feel the isolation in this, the loneliness, the pain… especially these lines:

    “When did I become

    A crass innuendo girl?

    The kind I’d be ashamed of

    Was it the first time you turned away?

    Or removed my seeking hand?

    Or the fiftieth?”

  2. Can we measure pain,
    That of one frank
    And scathingly honest,
    And rejected,
    Or of the one who cannot express such,
    Cannot be with it?
    Double tragedy.

  3. Can we feel the pain of those unknown to us,

    deep where truth lies..

    Envy, your number grow honestly, where as the pain un-seen by other, to we all recieve,
    fair treatment…

    i would answers no!

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