Here’s another poem from my untitled series about love, sex and relationships. And yes, I know I really need to come up with a name. I’ve never been very good at that part. Any suggestions?
The Last Woman
Mother always joked the obstacle between
us and legal marriage was five inches.
There was some truth to these words, though
It was never anything so meaningless.
I picked at you; tried to perfect your art. I wanted
you to be something. Something you were not.
It’s not anyone’s fault. You simply lacked what it took;
Not to satisfy my libido, but to wake my rusty aching heart.
by Michelle Beltano Curtis
Thanks for reading! As usual, feel free to comment or critique my work.
All Rights Reserved. “The Last Woman” may not be reprinted without permission of the author.