Words are what I use to write
A poem or two each day.
And a lot of people love them.
They say with words I have a way.
Well I’m beginning to think it’s all a wish
And that I should give it up.
Because nothing I’ve written you
Has won your dying love.
All I ever wanted from you
Was just to let me care.
But you would rather walk away,
Making it hard to be there.
No words have brought you back,
Or made you turn your head.
No words have made you listen
To whatever it was I said.
No words made you really believe
That I would live my life
Simply keeping you happy
If only I were your wife.
So why am I a writer still
If I know you won’t even read
The words that are all I feel,
Causing my heart to bleed.

11-20-1990 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire