my worries are worrisome
a quiet smouldering fire that remains
but i'm greatly conscious of the threat
imminent, waiting, ready to pounce
content to administer the punch

but you're ready to medicate, and mend
promises to restore, and intricately repair
restore me? ha! you'll be my remedy?
are you up for the gig? alright, deal---
nurse me back into love again. even into like.

i promise you're not a dose, drug, or diet of love.
but somehow you've got me coming back for more.
it's got to be that smile, cinnamon colored skin
the lingering scent of your touch, child-like eyes
that resounding beat, throbbing against my fragile chest

but, truly, let me beg, promise me---
that i'm not just your new fancy
not just a frivolous, female friend
you crept in so slyly, my fox
and soon, you'll go for the ****

the **** will be good
the **** will be tragic
the **** will make me fall in love again.