my longing is fresh
as that first touch of a breast
and the stomach spinning in the gut
and high-headedness
beyond drugs and dislocation
that juvenile weakness of the knees
like childish first love
my love how do you take me back so?
me old and tired and so done with it
yet sometimes you'll make a liar of me
and I'll tumble like a young fool
not too much different than an old one
but for all the mileage and the heartbreak and yet
there we are...fools for love...and glad of it...
Content (c) 2008-2013 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
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