Competing Bouquets

How many times have I told myself
I'm not ready for love?
I tried it as a child
And failed as a man.

Time slips away
To discover anyone
I would care to convince
She ought to stay.

I'll just wind down my days
Sipping coffee
In some remote café
And try to flirt with a waitress:
If she calls my hand,
I'll say I didn't mean it.

I don't have the heart anymore
To enter into a heated explanation with a woman
For something I said or might have done,
I just don't have it in me any longer
To be jealous of anyone
When his bouquet is greater than mine.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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