I chose to write about "her" to infinity.
It's like being in a place where the eye does not see.
She'll read this and think "is he talking about me?"
or will she even read this?
Yes, you! No, not you!
But YOU the one I am speaking to with this piece.
Wait she wont, she cant, see my harsh but subtle rant.
Maybe the truth was spoken way back when.
Like these words placed on a page with my keyboard and not my pen.
If I could make "her" mine again I would,
forget "her" I actually should.
She may be toxic in "her" wholeness,
yet I crave "her" presence...
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