Poetic Interlude LXVI

 
Re-Run
As cocky grins push back my cheeks,
And hands grope for – a pen,
I recollect the recent weeks:
I am in love, again.
 
Another boy eclipsed my sense;
My judgement fled before his face.
I stare, and with intent intense,
My pulse and pining interlace.
 
I could declare him peerless, true,
Or hymn his lips and teeth and eyes.
Let perjured poetry ensue –
I’ll sing him all the sweetest lies.
 
I am no cooing turtledove.
I swore that I’d stay cold, and coy.
I hate that I’m in love with Love!
Same old troubles, different boy.
 
©2014 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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