TS (4/26/87 / Indianapolis)

Name Of The Game

Somehow I pictured us growing old together,
Hand in Hand we'd float down feeling light as a feather,
All the while are grasp getting tighter, little more constricting,

Meanwhile the words you use, so contradicting,
Inflicting my decision on what I thought I heard you say,
Asked to speak again, although you speak a different way,

Never the same twice seems to be the story of my life,
And all the while pondering why you won't let me strive,
To love and to hold you, watch you grow and help mold you,

Not to what I see fit, but rather what suites you,
Love's give and take, but when one-sided it's through,
So what to do, so what to do,

Well I leave that up to you,
And when you figure it out, just give me a shout,
So I can hold my head up high without doubt.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

The minefield of love. No easy path through it - though I'm not sure I can go with the moulding bit. You're focussing on the big issues and doing fine here. Keep writing.