He is tired
I am worn out too
It was Thursday and the end of a long week
He didn't come to bed and kiss me goodnight
There was no lovemaking for me
No hugs no nudity
Does he wonder why we're alone
In our separate beds
I guess when you are old
It doesn't matter at much
Romance fails
I am not exciting when I have a toothache
And the Mariners are on
More important things
Is Beltray winning
Or Ichiro
Seattle is what matters on Thursday
Maybe Friday too
Baseball season's here
It's clear
There's more numbers than words
To be seen
The score it is
Not scoring with me
Used to being up all night
Used to being up all day
Somehow find the time
To meet in the middle for play
Or not
I guess it doesn't really matter
Throughout the chatter
Of poetry
Because when I'm here
It's all me
Other poets sound
You don't have to be around
I will go on with my life
Not being your wife
Don't have to be
You have Carol from before
Drifting in your mind
When you were young and fine
I was once young too
Now old and still know what to do
When it's not Friday
I will run to you
Always passion for me here
Words I write of how I can take it or leave it
Stay home
I will stay at my home too
And when you leave me blue
I will try to forget it
When it's not Friday
Others will text me
Others will play me
Others will want me
While you will just haunt me
With the whys of why not
To be caught in other days with you
Where I am sick and sad
But not today
On Fridays I am always glad
And he becomes the man I need
He needs me too
To be true
And true we can be
When it's good Friday life's good to let it be.

3/21/2008 1150 cj

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