She loves me, she loves me not poem.

SHE LOVES ME
SHE LOVES ME NOT

I’ll visit her today
and as always, I do not know
her mood.
I cannot see into her mind.
If I could, I might never go.

The wrath that lies inside
her delicate frame
is like heavy metal
suddenly blaring from a
Porcelain music box.

I am her target as always.
Or, I might not be today.
There are good days, sometimes.
She might love me today.
Praise my book and my art.

Or, she might look at me
and see into the past to a day
that was not to her liking.
I will drive her to lunch while
being slapped and beaten
by her words.