If she doesn’t love you,
Watch her get old.
Time’s her new lover.
Time loves her slowly
The way she likes. You were too bold.
You wrote her poems and proclaimed
Your love and felt a love for her like death.
Now time is the one who feeds on her breath.
She was not a poet and didn’t want to be told
She was one. That just got old.
You heaped too much praise on her days.
She wants that friendly style,
Of friends, who tell her she’s a doofus with a smile.
You were too bold. Retreat, and watch her get old.
Time is hers. Time is the one she gets to hold.