I've reached a point of balance in my soul.
I know I cannot have my love,
But now, with no daisy torture game
To tear me to the heart
I find I can be part of that fabric which is love
And wish him well.
Partake of that universal
Caring which links us all,
Acknowledge my human need
Without dredging out the depths
In wanting. Weary, weary wanting.
It's a form of greed.
My silly psyche,
In building up false hope,
Very nearly levelled me.
It's not that I engaged in jealousy
But confusion, turmoil.
The alternate storyline,
Made me dizzy.
My endogenous disorienting drug,
And never knowing where the truth might be.