The little girl was playing at the edge of the garden. She had decided, on this warm summer's afternoon, that she was going to be an archaeologist. Equipped with her beach bucket, a little plastic ... [+]
The question which wears
On my devoted mind.
How can you be so kind?
My heart flutters
But my brain sputters.
This pain you produce,
Leaves me too many clues.
This could be love,
But I have to shove
Away these drunken hopes.
You cannot be my pope.
You cannot be my savior.
I must change this behavior,
For if I don't change,
I will become deranged.
It's time to move on
From this forbidden bond.