Poetry

He Denies

With Every Ticking Second
I Drift Away From Him,
Leaving Him Alone To Cry.
Looking At His Obstinacy though,
I Wait. And I Sigh.
As the Child Inside Me
Impishly Denies
When I Ask Him To Die.

He Laughs At Me,
At My Sanity.
He Laughs At My Fears,
And Of Course, At My Vanity.
He Laughs In My Face.
He Laughs At My Will
That I Had Fostered to Grow Up.
He Laughs At the Illusion That
I Had Wrapped Around Me All This While.

I May Try To Be Polite,
I May Feel A Tad Shy,
And Finally, I May Neatly Cut the Pie.
But, He? Oh, he!
He Still Wants To Launch On It,
And then, He Smugly Denies,
When I Ask Him To Die.


Photo Credit: CarolinaP

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