who is it?
who is it that I want
to be with?
not him–who
witty though he be
does not even like me
not her–whose
beauty masks an
inward spite
whose popularity promises pleasure
to those who accompany her,
but such outward treasure
is betrayed by her eerie lack
of heart
not him–who
claims he wants to,
yet isn’t there.
he isn’t there
he doesn’t care
while reassuring words
accompany you,
deep down you know
that he doesn’t want to
he doesn’t want
to be there with you
not her–whose money,
well, let money give its
own account
we all know it’s worth
but what is it worth
to me?
for whether I own it or not,
is not true worth
defined by want?
and if those wanting me
want me not
whilst I am
wanting of it,
they do not want me
they want it.
who is it?
who is it that I want
to be with?
them–who
at any time, in any way
want me.
