Now the title might have you thinking this is economics-related. Sorry, just a poem.
What is the cost
of the love I have lost?
Is it the disguised opportunity
of a man, newly free?
Or is it truly a failed test,
a "...so I'm depressed."
Each chance I had to win her over,
or at least a little closer,
the words would fall out of place
or not come out right just like right here.
And when all was set, just like rehearsed,
something would not fit the verse.
Don't get me wrong, I told her one day.
She also said the perfect thing to say.
She didn't dis me or tell me how she felt.
It just wasn't a good play with the hands we were dealt.
So, did I pay dearly for my lofty love?
Or was it a good deal, considering I can now rise above?
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