Love Sick Is a Horrid Hang-Up
Love sick is a horrid hang-up,
to know that no one with call you,
or no one cares for you not one living thing;
Not even a snail moving slowly in a gutter,
or a snake slithering in desert sand pools,
not even that one beautiful girl with diamond eyes;
not one will ever come and just talk.
I hear the birds talking back and forth to each other,
five in the morning in the cool dawn morning;
I think they talk of me- (who is that brown-eyed boy,
-who cries such tears of sorrow-)
I don't think that though- they must be talking of the morning sunrise.
They might not even know that I'm down here thinking of them up there-
-or do they?)
.2.23.2014.
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