only wankers write poetry

So heres some poetry what i wrote;

she sits in the room and drinks wine on his own he remembers the memories that were never her own the voice of her friends and the touch of a love a known temptress the long night caresses her loneliness with another slow drink in the future the present and past chances forsaken her senses shaken and twisted long passion for what she has not wanted but needed and treated like that which has no meaning and seeming to last forever or never it is one and the same choices forever with herself left to blame anything and nothing for its all just the same she thinks of the end and the beginning to question not of what is what should be but what could be no-more till the end

'97