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
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Comments about this poem (Romantically Yours by Seth Proch )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(01 January 1950)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963)
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