It's a funny little thing,
The Fling,
We think we're oh so adult.
A night here,
A night there,
With nothing to worry about.
But say you know this person better,
Know them on a more intimate level,
The complications only twist downwards from there.
To add insult to injury,
You do this Fling not once,
But twice,
Things as one might say,
got a little worse.
First,
Is the worst,
You fantasize about fantasies that could take flight,
But how could they when they are only built upon physical attraction?
Second is the best,
Or so they say,
Not a care in the world,
When all those feeling just magically disappear.
But that's the kicker,
Emotions of that volume never truly go away,
They linger,
Poking and prodding,
Till one day,
They just so happen to reappear once again.
YOU ARE READING
Burning Love
PoetrySo this always growing collection of poems is about how love can be one of the most complex emotions to understand, and how it can affect people (mostly me though). In these little blips of writing I share vague but personal feelings and experiences...
