Miss Take

I’m holding on to letting go,

But love becomes a scar,

A tractor beam, an undertow,

An ever-burning star.

I can’t evade the chambered round,

The waiting for the shot,

The trigger pull, the snapping sound—

I guess…she loves me not.

When lost in love, I love to lose,

In haste to place my bet —

I take the loss, and pay my dues,

And haven’t won one yet.

I fail to notice random things

I lose along the way —

I spend the hope tomorrow brings

By going broke today.

Tomorrow’s promise is a lie,

Deposits are withdrawn,

And interest earned is spurned — but why?

A queen will tax a pawn.

The SIMPle life is not complex,

But difficult to break —

So learn from the unfairer sex,

Or burn for each Miss Take. 

David Nelson Bradsher