affection

My obsession with thinking we're right for one another

smothers my perception of all other truth -

proving my state of mind to be quite illogical -

dislodged from its customary balance and equanimity.

My stimulus to bring me on wings to the next day

is the play I make for repeated meetings, knowing

full well how all will fail, but I still

shrilly call for a last glum chance.

The dance steps depict the epitome of misery -

my vision for a happy life disrupted in despair;

and I'll fare worse yet in setting my sights

on the frightful bottomless pit of perpetual frustration.

If this is love and all that it's about,

then those who're wise must surely cut it out.