a poem by Melyssa G. Sprott, USA - poetry writer, author, poet

I miss you already, my aim is unsteady—
deadly accurate no longer.
So wildly I shriek that it’s made me weak,
but you seem to be growing stronger.

The path you find into my mind—
I’m afraid you catch me off guard.
I haven’t met a man yet, I’d rather forget—
looks so easy—is so hard.

You’re in my sight, alas I can’t strike.
I wonder how this can be:
it hurts so much, that I shrink from your touch—
but I will never be free.

One thing is sure—I never missed before,
you’ve got me under your sway.
Hit or miss—it kills me, this—
such a dangerous game do we play.

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