I Would – A pathetic poem
There’s a girl out there who doesn’t like me,
Sometimes I think that girl is you,
There’s nothing I wouldn’t not do for thee,
But there’s a list of things that I would do.
I would pick you plucky, pithy flowers,
Pull them from the earth, imagining your heart
‘cos I’m not strong.
Dandelions, buttercups, nettles, a little daisy chain,
A child’s bouquet for child’s listless love.
I would write a bad poem,
It wouldn’t have meter or form or
Rhyme or rhythm,
And I’d fill it with a thousand clichés, more
Clichés than stars in the sky:
Totally unromantic, and not the romantic way.
I would be the least romantic man,
In the history of cavemen.
I can’t even claim to be able to provide.
Except a sense of annoyance,
Almost weak enough to be loathing,
I’d be the burr stuck in your hair.
I’d scratch your neck.
I would cling on
Tightly, pathetic, pitiful and wet,
Knowing you are too nice to throw me off yet,
Clinging doggedly on,
Vague attempts at puppy dog eyes,
My limpid resistance a surprise,
Knowing you wish me gone.
But I won’t go,
And I won’t try to fight,
So fuck you and what you want,
I’m not doing this right.
I would do nothing