Her capricious heart is at it again,
Bouncing mine on that loveworn elastic.
Unrequited love, that fever of the brain
That produces physical pangs.
Yes her capricious heart is at it again,
Playing volleyball with my emotions,
Smashing them high into the air
Only to stand back, hands on hips
And watch them crash to the ground.
She doesn't want me
I know it, she knows it.
But my heart is stubborn enough
Not to believe it, content as it is
To make my soul miserable
With this crippling sickness known as love,
Clandestine glances are my lot.
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