. Just Words The more we are together dear, __I fear… can love suffice? Of late I find you’re cavalier __And not so very nice. Your nonstop nag-nag-nagging __Is a never-ending drain, Your tongue a-wag-wag-wagging __Dear, is driving me insane. The more we are together my sweet, __The less I see you smile. Oh give my aching heart a treat __And shut-up for a while. Your ceaseless pick-pick-picking __That provoked this caustic rhyme, Has set our clock a-ticking __And we’re running out of time. These words are only words my dear, __Don’t look at me that way. Don’t let this toxic atmosphere __Give rise to our decay. And so, my love, lets battle on __Despite this stormy weather, Though it would seem that love is gone, __The more we are together. . . Your Picture A picture’s worth a thousand words… __Yours was worth a few. It actually got ripped in thirds, __When it stuck to my shoe. The frame itself was bent in half, __The glass shards scattered far. I swept them up on your behalf, __My darling… au revoir. I don’t know where that picture is __And frankly I don’t care. I ditched our towels, “hers” and “his” __And went for “solitaire”. So stay away from my domain __To you I’m now immune, If I never see your face again __It will be much too soon! . . If Only If only I had held my tongue, __If only I had stalled. Instead, words from my mouth were flung __That could not be recalled. The sickened look upon your face, __The sorrow in your eyes, The anger… maybe just a trace, __All came as no surprise. If only I had stopped to think __And not allowed my pain, To cause my self-esteem to shrink __And muddle-up my brain. The words came fast and furious, __I spit them out like venom, Not caring how injurious, __My mood as blue as denim. If only things had not gone south, __If only I’d been civil, Instead of spewing from my mouth __Incomprehensive drivel. If I had simply kept my cool __And not felt so defeated, And acted by the golden rule… __Treat as you would be treated. Perhaps we might have worked it out __And broken down the wall. Whatever did we fight about? __I really can’t recall. And now you’re gone, I miss you, and __I wouldn’t be so lonely… __If only. . . Norma Pain was born in Liverpool, England and now lives in Parksville, British Columbia, Canada. Thirty of Norma’s poems were published by Dana Literary Society, between 2004 and 2007 and she was twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize by that same on-line poetry site. She self-published a book of rhyme in 2000 called Bulging Assets.