Another poem from my love, sex and relationship series. Like “First Girl,” this one has some teeth. Comments and critiques are welcome! Thank you.
Pan, Peter Pan
I could have nailed my broken marriage on you, as you have done with me, but I know how to take responsibility. It took me sloppy seconds to know who you really were; a lesson I paid dearly for. You were an excuse. Very simple. Nothing more. A way of ripping off the band-aid without being a bore. How could it have been any other way? You’d have to matter to actually be to blame.
by Michelle Beltano Curtis
All Rights Reserved. “Pan, Peter Pan” may not be reprinted without permission.