From: Your Loving Saboteur.

I sent text messages,
night after long night,
feeling desperate to get,
my words across right;
I wrote of my feelings,
regrets and concerns,
admitted the fact,
that I’ll never learn;
I detailed discrepancies,
that fuel the wild-fire,
mapped out short circuits,
to this explosive Live Wire;
I blew up your email,
unanswered and unread,
describing the knowledge,
that I’ve been so far mislead;
I spell the eastern wind,
in hope it will find you,
to catch the kisses I send,
even if you don’t want to;
I carved out with my buck-knife,
our bond in text, eternally,
yours and my initials,
beneath the bark of many trees;
I tried like Hell to tell you,
things you’ve wanted to hear,
but I said them out of context,
they were lost on you, I fear;
I’ve wasted any meaning,
on a pipe-dream, to be sure,
and now, I’m finally leaving
signed, Your Loving Saboteur.

5 thoughts on “From: Your Loving Saboteur.

  1. Love, communication, and expectations…
    Sometimes a heart-wrenching combination.