Quixotic Femme
I couldn’t turn my back
and I couldn’t fix it
Story of my life
lame excuse
Quixotic tale
striving for virtue
in a sewer
Do the best you can
Clean up the mess
Show up the next day
Clean up again
I couldn’t turn my back
and I couldn’t fix it
Story of my life
lame excuse
Quixotic tale
striving for virtue
in a sewer
Do the best you can
Clean up the mess
Show up the next day
Clean up again
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?