Written for: The Twiglets #221 - "it's not you"
Spotted a dark-haired man,
tall with a familiar gait–
but it wasn't you.
It's not you
nor is it me
we just were never
meant to be.
mourns over loss
of his younger man days
yet he's still there inside
She scheduled a lunch date for two
knowing this was way overdue.
They ordered their drinks
She looks nervous, he thinks
A breakup. He knew when she claimed it's me, not you.
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
I can relate to all your verses.
Once I grabbed the arm of a man I thought was my hubby…
Broke up with two blokes that way… good riddance
and the third – that’s my elder neighbor, don’t be to sad though – he’s in his late 90’s and still in his own home.
The limerick is great too!
Thanks so much, Jules!
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Oh… just for fun – maybe you too can relate to: