by Maria Francesca

Sad little sycophant
hanging on my every utterance
arranging your world
to suit my slightest whim

I was certain
this would be just the ticket
the veriest possible thing
in a friend
in a lover
in a slave

but it turns out
that you alternate
between boring me
shaming me
and nauseating me -

I can barely look at you
and still respect myself.

Then I blink
and return to seeing you
through my own worshipful eyes

instead of seeing myself
through yours.


Posted on 02/26/2007
Copyright © 2021 Maria Francesca

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 02/27/07 at 03:37 AM

Wow! I had to read this twice to gain the full impact. Excellent! Get's my POTD vote.

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