I’m a Fool for You, Baby
We love as much, as well
as we are able, imperfect,
broken, yet doing
the best that we can,
which isn’t very good
at all.
We love as much, as well
as we are able, imperfect,
broken, yet doing
the best that we can,
which isn’t very good
at all.
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?