Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Won’t Write You a Love Song

Linda M. Crate

you asked me to write you a
love song, but scoffed when

I reached for the pen, you
cut me with words jagged as

rocks so I could paint it in
blood, but I’ve always been

a substandard painter which
is embarrassing given my

uncle’s talent; the one I told
you about that passed away,

but you insist upon me doing
this, demand it, as if all your

joy depends on this appendage
of words that remains in the

valley of things not constructed —
I decided it was time to cut you

loose; I will not sacrifice every
thing I have for someone that

never cared about me to begin
with, choke on your arsenic lilts;

you won’t wilt my lilies anymore —
you have no power over me now.

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