Paula M. Puddephatt
You trust. You hurt. I know the score, so why
do I let myself care? Why do I try
at all? Must my emotions always win?
By now, I must be on my final spin.
I cannot survive much more rejection.
Take it all - my genuine affection -
but just don't chuck it straight back in my face.
I wish that I could hold back, just in case
I end up hurt again. I wanted to.
Yet, still I trust - because it's what I do.
I live. I learn. What difference does that make?
Another fragment of my heart will break
each time, until I have no heart at all.
Then, I'll get to hide at last - behind my self-erected wall.
Paula M. Puddephatt's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Final Spin by Paula M. Puddephatt )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Stafford's Cabin, Edwin Arlington Robinson
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- Christmas Carol, Sara Teasdale