You are the golden streaks

in my dirty blonde hair;

visible in summer,

but in winter not there.

You’ve been gone a while,

really, it’s such a shame.

I waited and waited;

you think it’s just a game.

Fine, I’ll play it your way;

I’m so sorry to say:

this isn’t any game;

They’re not all the same.

You win some, you lose some.

That’s just the way it goes.

Maybe next time, think more,

and keep me on my toes.

Sure, it won’t be easy,

but this is how life works;

If you put in effort,

you’ll discover the perks.

I want to see your heart,

not obnoxious muscles.

I’d rather sour and tart,

than “I’m Sorry’s” with truffles.

I know that it’s not you,

I’m still looking for who.

- s.l.