OLD HABITS DIE HARD

These old habits are too hard to break,
so we easily pain our own fragile hearts.
You once gave me reasons, joy to feel,
then again caused additional heartache.

I've waited so long here for a real part.
Needed something now that isn't surreal.
But instead of the love I always craved,
Cupid again shot a poisoned faux dart.

Look, this old habit is something I wear
on black sad nights under lonely covers.
Yes, tho' it doesn't quite look it to others,
with the exotic flowers you put in my hair.

This seems just a game you love to play,
rather than building any real loving future.
I've often accepted even far less, I guess;
so, out of habit, I'll pack to move any day.

What gave me reasons to love and live,
leaves me feeling colder in this quagmire.
Our burning passion now smoldering fire,
charred dead again, with little left to give.

I don't believe you've finished your quest,
in, out our door that should be revolving.
I'm tired of this daily love problem solving.
Let's just be platonic, my habitual guest.

(c) 2003 Maggie Mink aka Rennie Lorca