a poem by Elaine E. Howie

The passion is gone, I don’t feel nothing anymore
You might as well leave, go-ahead walk out that door
I am in no mood to pretend to be hurt
After catching you once again, chasing another skirt

The passion is gone, I don’t feel like I want to die
I won’t shed one tear, no, this time I won’t cry
I dug down real deep
Just to see if there was a little love left to keep

No, the passion is gone, I go on to cook
I snuggle in my chair and I read a good book
I check the kids and give them the kiss
And then, that part where you I am suppose to miss

I call my sister or a friend and we reminisce
As I write my grocery list
I stick my head out the window and catch the wind
For the passion is gone and I am alright in
The End