|Andrew Lindemann Malone's Internet Playpen|
What you call love sounds more to me like coins
rattling in an empty cup. Or ledger
entries kept in balance. What you've done
and what I've done must match. A friendly merger
of complementing souls. You talk of love
like something that you own but you aren't in.
But I was lost in rosy forecasts. I dove
into the deal. My assets: yours. I'd burn
the midnight oil when you made statements, pore
over figures that didn't add up. In fact,
you shielded your assets from me, and you stored
my gifts until I could no longer act.
And when your profit goals could not be met,
you stopped your love like you would stop a check.
All this tasty writing ©2002-11 by Andrew Lindemann Malone. All rights reserved.