I had played many of your kind;
But with you;
My foot got stuck;
And so did my heart.
There was something about my times with you;
That made me think of Sunday;
My pain relief day;
When I’m at my lightest.
You made me feel that way,
Even on a Wednesday.
When you took my hand,
and slowly slid your palm
The friction of our palms together
sent a spark to my heart
And since then,
a fire has been burning brightly for you.
I should have gotten the hints,
But I didn’t.
Because I had- excuse my language – loved you too much,
I neglected my reasoning for your charm.
And sacrificed my broken heart for your deficient love.
Unperturbed about the price I would inevitably have to pay.