Like a Gun to My Head.
Like a gun to my head
I hold the phone
I tell you I’m fine
You ask what I’ve done
I say I met someone
And that we had a coffee
You ask what we said
And I can’t remember
You aren’t contented
I try to explain
You say I’m evasive
Confiding in others
And it should be you
Now I get angry
We argue
You cry
Time to feel guilty
All over again
Like a gun to my head
I hold the phone
I love this. The imagery and relational struggle is very well told.
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Thanks so much my dear. Its a poem created from bitter experience. I really value your remarks. 😘
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