Letting Go Of Nothing Poem by Frederick Francis

Why does it always hurt
When I no longer will it to?
Why did I still flirt
When the outcome I knew?
It must have been the way
She felt like silk against my skin.
For those soft brown eyes I’d stay.
Whispering into the night of sin.

Neither one of us had delusions
Of this being sunset bound.
I started with these conclusions
And worked my way to the ground.
You believe the path you walk
Is the one more wanting wear.
The common drama in your talk
I know from being there.

Of all the ropes to cut.
Your blade it drew to mine.
The one who’d pull you from this rut,
But your game ran out of time.
Instead you’ve been discarded
To these meager pages.
This won’t even be regarded
As worth remembering for the ages.


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