Trying not to think of her
when thoughts of her are the only joy;
false comfort from a friend
who sits and plays with a conversational toy:
"You should have never said 'I love you',
That's always the biggest mistake."
A chance meeting
makes me tolerate his loveless talk
for information's sake.
Tired by requests for details
that I casually demand,
my friend he turns to advice;
yet he's as foolish of love, as a lover's a fool,
in failing to understand
that when your heart is a daffodil
brimmed with the sun's honey dew,
it's hard not to spill the words of love,
no matter how hard you try not to;
even me, who managed to keep up
this yellow deceit,
gave way to her eyelash applause
as my heart it skipped a beat.
'Must've been a mistake', alone now,
with nowhere to go
and very thirsty for love
in this arid desert of 'No';
thirsty for love and still thinking on the start,
milking applause from the red cactus of my heart.