Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #513

You Meant To Foot My Bill
by Belinda Roddie

You meant to foot my bill at the café
and leave me white roses at your hotel,
but you had not received your monthly pay,
and the bellhop told you to go to Hell.
You wanted to call me, but you chose not
to, since you remembered I'd get anxious
while on the phone. In fact, all that you got
for me was a cheap bottle of rum - Guess
you failed at being the romantic type.
Honestly, people say that you're a creep
for pursuing me; "Don't believe the 'hype,'
you say. "Real creeps watch you while you sleep,
and don't take no for an answer." But I
said no a million times: Fuck off and die.