[And yes, that was her real name. – Owen]

Sometimes, as guys
We fantasize
‘Bout girls who we know
Hate us

Or maybe they’re
Indifferent, or
Perhaps, they
Just don’t rate us

I knew one,
Name of Gracie,
Back when I
Was still in college

She told me I
Was not her type.
And never,
To my knowledge

Gave me any
To think I had
A chance

At anything with
Her that bordered
Near to a

But, still,
I thought about her
Every day
And every night

Because, that’s
What we do as guys
It’s neither
Wrong nor right

So long as we
Don’t force ourselves
In places we’re
Not wanted

But women tear
Our minds apart;
And leave us lone
And haunted

I guess that Gracie
Was my friend,
After a sort
Of fashion

She didn’t share
My interest, nor
My ardor nor
My passion

But that
Could not be helped,
She never had
The slightest doubts

She thought of me
The way that I
Now think of
Brussels Sprouts

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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