RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Danger Of Love - Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Heart being in serious danger of being broken, loving you
with my heart upon my sleeve where you can plainly see and
aim your false love for it.
Wooing me with all your manly wiles, getting me to trust
in your words, touching me gently without any promises
given, wanting to tease and play with my fragile heart.
Talking, joking, telling me little details, thinking that
I would be amazed and making me want you more before the
night was over.
Watching gestures, facial expressions and just being myself,
not giving anything away, not letting you know one way or
the other if you even had a chance of scoring with me.
Passing time, writing, being interrupted off and on when
you came to insinuate yourself within this heart, doing
nothing at all to encourage or discourage you.
Not really caring one way or another, biding time writing
poetry in the solitude of my mind, finally coming to me,
making your move, deftly wanting to know more about me.
Tactfully telling you that I'm not interested, but being
polite and self-assured, letting your ego down easily and
gently, telling you I'm enjoying time alone in poetry.
Leaving you talking about many things for you are no longer
sure you can win my heart, this heart not in danger of being
broken, because it couldn't take another hit in life and
leave me standing and I know it.
Letting myself acknowledge facts, that this man is bored
and looking for a one night stand, walking away and out
the door, leaving him there with his ego and heart held
in his hands.
Myself totally intact and doing just fine, alone with my
poetry, heart in no danger of being hurt seriously, because
it has been broken so many times before leaving only shards
and splinters behind.
Having no chance of ever being captured by anyone's love,
false or otherwise, for I'm intent on saving myself from
the abuse that would naturally follow should I ever give
in to the wiles of a man bored with life.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about Danger Of Love by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye