Stop. You’re boring me.

Stop. You’re boring me 
with your muted cries 
of faithless eloquence, 
And your pretty mewling
and false protestations, 

That ugly mask of modesty
the begging mouth 
is growing thin. 
love what you’ve got 
you spineless man

the frowns and hand wringing 
are hollow friend 
they mean nothing
Stop. You are boring me.

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com

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