If only this lusting would pass.
If only you would bring me.
If only I hadn’t messed up.

But that is a past I cannot afford to think about.
Enjoy the attention, she says. I can’t.
For a promise lingers on the horizon of some happily ever after.

What a load of



something?

They may be on to it,
this thing they call love.

If only I had any clue.

Stuck in a great divide of non-commitment and grasping at thin air.
(Is that even a sentence worth writing?)

For I haven’t made any great decision. A cop out. Or coping?