I Don’t Know Why

Ancient history now, but still sometimes
in my mind, I see you kissing me so deeply
such craving for touch until then I knew not
your tall, broad, body at an angle to my small one

I see it as if from the ceiling, maybe your size
made me aware much more that you are male
the hunger and need caught me by surprise
a recognition was lit in my soul to nurture you

So it was, I fed you what you were longing for
since then you’ve lied and betrayed our trist
calling you spineless was true after all, though
my pain because of it was deep. I don’t know why

I saw the truth but wanted to deny your sweetness
was encased in a troubled heart, bereaved so young
you have no idea of being loved or loving back
you numb yourself with drink but worse, enable a drunk

Published in The Lark

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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