Exeunt Petrarch

Finis.

Such a shame

I wrote a poem about you. 

I don't suppose it will be seen again. 

Perhaps, I like you. 

But, perhaps, 

I like writing poems. 

Just a title

That I bring myself to care, 

Never have I been faced with compelling reasons not to. 

Just you wait. Go on this way and one day you'll be out in the streets.

Don't call me your ...