Coming To Terms Poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd

It's shameful when you don't know what you want,
Then whine that you feel lonesome and depressed;
How many a time have you sweet love suppressed,
And sold romance out for a passing jaunt?
You're not the only one past ghosts do haunt,
And taunt with futures make-believe, unblessed,
Then leave you lying out of bliss, undressed—
Oh, life is wasted when in sadness spent!
I'd like to say again, "Just take my hand."
I won't—lest I still seem in love with you!
It does not mean, howe'er, you drained all care;
Why, worthless words to actions do compare,
Mayhap—I hope—it'd help you understand:
The reason for my lingering adieu!