You say you love?
Well, when you shrill words
that mock in public
that all may see and snicker
at the one who bears the brunt
bicker, bicker, bicker
trying to get the last grunt
fling sarcasms in place of apology
and mix insult with injury into a fine mess
trying to force a lover to confess,
snap irritations many times before the day is done
refuse responsibility for feelings of your own
load blame upon the shoulders of who you profess to love
for many little things that make you weep and bother
that remind you of your mother
causing a lover to flee to save a sanity;
when you make of daily existence a living hell,
Oh! Never call it loving!
October 1999
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We have all seen this sort of person who believes they are loving....