Or Not

One day
When you are 'old,'
'gray,'
'and nodding by the fire'
And I am dead,
You may think of me,

Realize
that you
turned me down,
blocked me,
rejected me.

Not because
you didn't love me-
(You told me you did, at least)
But because
our "friends" told you

that I was fat
that I was old
that I was jealous
that I was perverted
that I was bat-shit crazy.

You may realize
one day
that I was kind,
gentle, thoughtful,
loving.

I only wanted,
Wanted
to give
what was best for you,
what you said you wanted

A quiet dinner for two
A trip on a plane
A pair of sunglasses
A vacation in Italy.
Someone to protect you.

But our "friends"
told you otherwise.
But  you were not wise.
And you heard,
but did not see

That one was fat
That one  was old
That one was jealous
That one was perverted
That one was bat-shit crazy.

That they each hate 
in themselves
what the they project 
onto others, 
onto me.

One day
When you are old,
'gray,'
'and nodding by the fire'
And I am dead,
You may think of me,
Or not.

To L.M.
November 9, 2014
2:15 to 2:25.

This writing is cheesy, no doubt. Yet, it's honest and true.

William Butler Yeats. b. 1865

When You are Old

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,	5
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled	10
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.