Pathos

A poem by Alfred Lichtenstein

You don't love me... I have never appealed to you...
Was never your type...
And my hard eyes annoy you, my darling...
I'm too dark for you. And too coarse -
And my white teeth have such a brutal shine
And my bloody lips are so terribly like sickles.
Ah, what you say -
Yes you are really right. I set you... free.
... And early in the morning I am going to an ocean
That is blue and eternal...
And lie on the beach...
And play with a smile on my face, until a death grabs me,
With sand and sun and with a white
Slender bitch.