Love agonies are so completely mundane,
And I have walked, so often,
The paths of puzzlement.
I have so often waited, in silence,
For words that, for the most part, did come,
But sometimes didn't,
That I can stand back from myself and think
"What a joke!".
I should be happy, free, unafraid.
I should play with the cats, or water the plants,
Or take the train into the city and see the Vermeer.
So why is it I am, once again,
Lying on the ocean floor?
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