He was grateful when she left.
They didn’t really have much in common;
it was like he wasted his precious love on her
and she wasted her precious love on him
in a pointless mismatch that made no sense,
that their lonely hearts had misled them into,
that he and she thought was real true love.
He didn’t trust his feelings or his love after that.
And he guarded his heart, and though he was
cautiously willing to gamble on love again and
hoped he’d get another chance for real romance,
true love was illusive and never came his way again.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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