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.

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