Cyclical

How many more moons,

Must I run to, just to get closer to you.

Am I that hopeless a romantic,

Pursuing love, just to let myself down again.

When does a fool become a clown?

Back at the lake.

I sit and wonder, what it feels like to drowned,

To let the water rush in and carry me through,

This is how it feels when I am without you.

Are you my addiction? Have I become masochistic,

The way I crave your body.

As if I am a flower in spring waiting for you, in order to bloom,

Do I need to let go this time;What if I can’t? What if I don’t want to.

Where have I run off? How can I leave this all to chance?

My friends don’t recognize the woman I am;

Who have I become?

Chasing love as if it’s wanted for treason; And maybe it is.

What does that say about me; Have I lost my mind?

Am I spiraling again? I think I am.

But when I see you pass by,

I leave the water behind and run after your hand,

Only to sink lower and lower into quicksand; I’m alone again.

Like a melancholy fool, I think to myself.

Of course I am.