My last few weeks have quietly been
taken by a rising tension,
shielding me from relaxation,
stealing sleep from weekend days.
A lover lost, which seems to feed
my insecure apprehension.
A new job, where, to settle in some
is beyond my working haze.
I’m 28, a bloke whose seen
less of loving’s dreamt attention
than belongs to male pretension.
I need to catch a woman’s gaze.
from walkful thoughts
is hosted by
arts & ego
© 1978–2020 dylan harris