i’ve never
been much of
a fighter.
never been the champion
of the world,
with a lightning quick jab,
and a counter right
to knock them all out.
i’ve never
been a killer.
with nerves
made of steel,
unfeeling
and unflinching,
in the bloodshed
and horrors I could cause.
i’ve never
been a Don Juan.
a suave libertine,
with a million lovers,
and a billion ex lovers.
for whom the thought
or memory of me
is enough to leave their bodies
quaking and trembling.
instead all i’ve been
is myself,
and i guess
to you,
that is more than enough.