come now, won’t you?

longing, oh he’s an old companion

long and far we’ve together paced

he’s wily when flirting with uncertainty

and most amusing when a life’s at stake

we engage in this game on and off

that on a simple premise is based

either i get the better of him

or he leaves my soul razed

the seasons they come and the seasons they go

though of my lover there’s not a trace

but the game is long and now it’s my move

and i convince him that i’m unfazed

like an itch at a gash on the inside of my ribs

i crave for your touch for a glimpse of that face

i languish i pine i thirst i yearn i ache i lust

and i watch on bemused my intriguing case

oh longing, he’s an old friend

and though occasionally for a lark he’ll lace

my evening drink with the morbid poison of melancholy

he’ll see to it that i make it through the days

but come now for though i wouldn’t admit to him

i’m beginning to forget your smell the taste

of your tongue the feel of your skin and though 

he won’t admit it the poor fellow too needs a break