I see you from a mile away.
Your husband isn’t Don Juan?
His money not romantic enough for you?
You utter chameleon,
you’d no sooner be in love with another man,
than you’d divorce the idea of him too,
when he doesn’t praise you,
nor your narcissist need for approval.
and to do that,
you need to learn of plenitude,
and how it will drown you for seeking it,
so walk to solitude,
away from the ego keeping you from rectitude.
Your erratic moods,
are brattish cries,
self perpetuated lies,
a call to be viewed.
But you can’t handle indifference,
a refusal to fight,
and my reluctance,
to be your muse.
Where in that head of lies,
did you ever think,
I’d be your interlude,
the between man of your fantasies,
and finger food,
a socialite, who’d pander,
to your disquietude?
Look at the mess you’ve created inside,
and outside yourself,
oblivious to the idea,
I can’t be pursued.
Ah you poor thing,
victim-hood has bought you many things,
given you a lifestyle to be dreamed of,
but you’re stuck in me-world attitude.
Art by AJGIEL