Friday the thirteenth you walked in the door
Knowing the night wouldn’t be a bore
Wondering if your kindness was an ever changing ocean tide
Though I pushed the worry off to the side
Having the time of my life
Not a thing could cause me to feel any strife
Still questioning your love
But I let it fly like a dove
If there were one star for every time I doubted you
There would be four hundred and twenty-two
I forever ask myself are you for real?
And please stop pressuring me to kneel.
When I look at you I see a childish boy
So am I really just another toy?
Do you see me as the one?
Or are you using me for fun?
Still waiting for you to prove yourself Mr. Right
Yes, you may dream of me at night.
Though your dreams are all fantasy and fun
When you awake they are already done.
You tell me your life will be good
If its money you have, and you don’t care about being understood.
Well my definition of happiness is not that
You’ve got to love yourself, if you’re nice, pretty, wild, or fat
So as I look to the stars I see
That yes, you might be using me
The answer only you hold
And I am the one who must be told
Take a trip down memory lane
That Friday the thirteenth blurry in your brain
Didn’t have one boastful comment, but a few
I am now superstitious, thanks to you.
Submitted: February 12th, 2003
»
Search for more poems written by Georgie Abel
» Send this poem to a friend
» Submit your Love Poem
» Back to Category: Betrayal
» Back to Category Listing
|
