No self-hatred, but self-anger still has a place,
To remind me of all of the time that I waste,
Staying lost, deep in thought, about moments that have passed.
A truly stern reminder, of why it can't last.

A smile. A thought.
Sometimes gone. Not forgot.
Of moments in time,
That still plague the mind.
Should've been left behind,
But in moments that remind,
Of,
Laughing and smiling,
Reduced to beguiling,
Worth while? Me?
In style? Please!
Like a lover temp service.
Not perfect? Most likely.

Then a moment chimes in.
Some forgotten remnant of what it had been.
My heart in the driver's seat,
My mind, parade rest.
My honesty obvious,
With the things I confess.

But how?
How can it happen again?
Getting loving benefits from me. As a friend.
I hate the My heart is so soft so frequently,
And left here forgotten, and alone, so easily.

Strong enough now,
To see wrongness and wow!
Feeling so stupid,
Taking wings off of cupid.
Welcome to the ground, prick.
I hope you suffer like I did.
But it never turns to hate.
I can't hate.
I start to walk.
I hesitate.
I've been known to wait,
For a potential mate,
My feelings always displayed.
That song.
That glance.
That hope for the chance,
That I never will take
Knowing it's far too late.
Time to fix the mistake,
That is always made in haste.
But it's still there.
The feeling.
I won't lie to myself.
I'll keep it on a shelf.
Gathering dust. Oh well!
The end of this tale,
Isn't written.

© The Moonlight Bard