better than

on going and


three years-

in my life, then out,

then in and out, again.

part of me, one with me

and then



not for long, though

not until you call me again

and i fall again.

same story line,

same plot.


and then

same outcome.


you will kiss my forehead

with such a passionate touch

like you really mean it;

like you really love me.

you will touch me

in all the right places

in all the right ways.

and then you will so routinely push me away.

and i kept telling myself

that it would eventually all make sense-

all of our differences,

all of these misconstrued instances-

but they don’t add up-

they never have, & they never will.

KV ©


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