Miss Take
I’m holding on to letting go,
But love becomes a scar,
A tractor beam, an undertow,
An ever-burning star.
I can’t evade the chambered round,
The waiting for the shot,
The trigger pull, the snapping sound—
I guess…she loves me not.
When lost in love, I love to lose,
In haste to place my bet —
I take the loss, and pay my dues,
And haven’t won one yet.
I fail to notice random things
I lose along the way —
I spend the hope tomorrow brings
By going broke today.
Tomorrow’s promise is a lie,
Deposits are withdrawn,
And interest earned is spurned — but why?
A queen will tax a pawn.
The SIMPle life is not complex,
But difficult to break —
So learn from the unfairer sex,
Or burn for each Miss Take.
David Nelson Bradsher
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