She had a face, meant to smile,
Her curves, draped in clothes of style.
He won her with his natural vibe,
But she wasn’t really into the poetic type.
He should have waited awhile,
But he fell like a hunted whale;
With a big heart and a big splash,
Shamelessly, spending his hard-earned cash
He ran broke,
Trying to make it work.
Trapped in the pursuit of a never-ending love,
Love that in the end,
Had to come to a poetic end.
He caught her lying, about her age,
Yet this did not ignite his rage.
He caught her lying about where she’d been,
But chose to ignore what he hadn’t seen.
Then, he caught her lying, under another man!
Her legs parted by another dick, with a dick.
He snapped like a bloodthirsty tick,
His mind clogged with the smoke of fury,
He could barely hear her say sorry…
"You broke my heart! I break your heart!
I caught you lying! I’ll catch you dying!
This is my story. it has to rhyme
It has to rhyme"
He reached the drawer in no time
Let rage write her last verse
Click!....through her chest… click!
He relocated her to the past tense...
His mind no longer thick,
He caught her lying, in a pool of her blood
Knelt and held her as he would
Crying, sobbing, weeping in shame,
"It had to rhyme, …it had to rhyme…"
© I K Nakueira