This Isn’t About You Poem by Frederick Francis

You say for another you can not feel.
In reality you only deny what is real.
I would rather you feel hate
Then feel nothing at all
But from your icy post
You did stumble and fall.
The wet around your eyes
Looked pretty warm to me.
From the top of those dark stairs
Did you hope I wouldn’t see?

The effect of colliding cold and warm
Is the brewing of a passionate storm.
How come right before the end
You noticed the colour of my eyes?
Perhaps it was the only time you could
Because you weren’t spinning lies.
I wish I knew what you saw
That made you quickly look away.
Was it that little unknown
That made you want to stay?

Either way I do it to my self.
Like the others you’ll be filed to the shelf
Of things to not remember
Because they aren’t worth the time.
To me you’re just another muse
For the same pessimistic rhyme.
I know by chasing a person
Who will never want me back
There is no worry of a broken heart
When this train eventually jumps the track.

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