adventures in dysthymia

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Like, a poem


We were very much in like
with each other and maybe
that is enough. We could
have settled, I think.

That time has passed and now
friends means only friends,
while I go seeking the sort
of love that knots

me up, makes me sick,
demands more than I have.
If only I could once more
fall in like.

Stephen Brooke ©2015

pretty much of a throwaway --- don't expect it to show up in a book or anything (unless it's a posthumous anthology!)

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