You were just a little less than what I need,
You’re always checking to make sure you still bleed.
A fashionable obsession with manic-depression,
You’re a semi-suicidal cry for help.
I can only give you all I have,
In return you give me all your pain,
If I come back for more does that make me insane?
It’s just a crazy little thing called love.
You’re always taking me to the edge,
Staring into the brink,
Then you push me too far,
I’m not sure what to think.
Am I dragging you down or helping you up,
It’s hard to tell who’s killing who, when we’re both falling so fast
You know it never was meant to last.
A less than lovely romantic comedy of errors,
A less than perfect habit you can’t break,
A less than subtle source of sadness,
A less than happy home.
It’s all a wild rush of terrors,
It’s all a little more than I can take,
It’s all no good, but full of badness,
You’ll never be my happy home.
Seth Proch's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Romantically Yours by Seth Proch )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
- Henry Scott Holland
John Crowe Ransom
(30 April 1888 - 3 July 1974)
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(5 November 1850 - 30 October 1919)
- Pankaj Prasoon
- WH Auden
(October 2, 1879 – August 2, 1955)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland
- Struggle, Sidney Lanier
- Solitude, Ella Wheeler Wilcox
- Two In August, John Crowe Ransom
- This is Delhi, Pankaj Prasoon
- Just can't help being different, maryam kazmi
- Dog, Lawrence Ferlinghetti
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- I do know how you feel, Laura Healy
- Dreams, Langston Hughes