Adulthood

“Screw you, Buster,” she growled. I said, “Yes, please.”
A good relationship is difficult:
Not much time to take deep breaths and exult,
Too many harsh words from my enemies.
I spent a lot of time down on my knees,
And getting nothing much as a result.
It should be easy, being an adult,
But love has failed to put me at my ease.

Of course, it isn’t so much whom you love
As what you want love for. Myself, I want
The ghost of my desire, ready to haunt
Our rooms with odd sounds coming from above,
Which scare and soothe, both going hand in glove
With childhood. I have grown cold, sad, and gaunt.