adventures in dysthymia

Friday, March 04, 2005


One day, you stopped being mine.
There were a thousand-and-one reasons
why and none of them mattered.

A child lets loose his balloon,
the string slipping through his fingers.
Tears will not bring it back.

Each day, I loved you more
and you loved less. My heart could not
hold you tightly enough.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

No, not my normal thing, exactly. More 'modern' in its feel...more straight-forward...more earnest. I'll be getting back to my usual obscurity now...

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