I smiled at you because I thought that you
Were someone else; you smiled back; and there grew
Between two strangers in a library
Something that seemed like love; but you loved me
(If that's the word) because you thought that I
Was other than I was. And by and by
We found we'd been mistaken all the while
From the first glance, that first mistaken smile.
the not quite love
I haven't been home in nearly two weeks.
My new lover has a fridge full of beer
and can almost make jollof rice
also the sex is good
and we are falling into something we will soon mistake for love
Anyway,
'home' is a problem. There are the
bills and there
are the mice
plus
there is that feeling you get
when you catch up with yourself.
— Yrsa Daley-Ward