By slug
Date: 31 August 2000
untitled
The one who wants less wins-
of course.
As always - and I'm left a little worse off
than I was when I held the
Promise of your love.
Like a bulb, so precious and precarious -
take care of it, treat it well, and it
will bloom into the most beautiful tulip...
but our bulb never bloomed-
and our love never roamed
to open feilds where lovers run towards
each other with open arms
and the wind blows aphrodisiacs through
your hair.
Our May and June was love in bloom-
July it waned and by September -
you'd sobered up and let me down...
and I've decided I hate summer flings-
they don't ever mean anything.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner