I swore to marry you I must
but your heart is with another
and now I satisfy my lust
making love to your mother.
It almost feels half right
when I drink enough booze
to get myself a little tight.
But now I know I have naught to lose,
when I reflect that almost every girl
will end up looking like her mom.
The faded flag that eighteen extra years unfurl
provides my hurting heart its healing balm.
A contest entry
- 3am by Aussie Gypsy.
400 points, ended November 22, 22 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Dark
in an oh so fun way. I loved the slight twistedness and the pain. Revenge rightly sought. -
ew.
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I saw this and I thought, "What a combination- love, regret, angst, and humor"... lol that just about sums it up...
You know something, the first line breaks all proper English rules, but you know what it did? It captivated and intrigued me- as if you were about to delight the reader with your own new diction... (I'll have to try that someday...! )
ack the mother... lol well, without the booze, the test of time will give us better perspective all by itself...
I see the contest was '3am'... I'm waiting for a 5:30am contest these days...
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Yes, why is it that our muse tends to show up at 5:25 in the morning?
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haha this is great. enjoyed the read.
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Cutting... There's a sharp edge to this, poet! I love the clever cynicism.
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Oh my. This is just so wrong! I'm so glad I didn't have children...though that's a selfish response to your poem, I know.
Wicked, I really like it! Best of luck in the contest.
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