Me, dis-invited?
I figured as much.
Don’t blame attendees.
My affections claw at my sleeve,
examining the world over my voice.
Settling in your head,
ruminating over last night’s
bedroom talk.
What’s best for us
is whether you’ll marry me.
You craved a confession,
so, here it is;
I’m the culprit
in the past sense,
and since then, I’ve gambled
with my self-esteem.
I penned an unannounced
proposition, ascending two-stories
to your bedroom window.
I’m here; let’s party
over wine and expired cheese.

(Liking this post adds ten happy years to your life.)

Twitter – @AC0040

(© 2023 AC)

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