by Glen Martin Fitch
To search one's heart
is not an easy task.
I took a stand
on what I still assert.
I must do this.
I can't do what you ask,
not even
if you make yourself be hurt.
Yet each complaint
still breaks me down again.
You catalogue
each sacrifice you've done.
Your pleas show so much fondness
through the pain.
Why do they all assume
on my part none?
The more you call me stubborn
when we fight,
the more you tell me
your love I repel,
the harder it is for me
not to write as if it's true,
when I would wish you well.
You tell me how you suffer,
and you do.
yet sometime you might see
I suffer too.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011