I’m afraid I might be the Woodcock type.
I too need to poison myself to feel better.
I too cannot tell the difference between
growing colder and growing more earnest.
Better to slave away at your own redemption
than ask someone else to waitress it for you.
But maybe there is someone out there who
knows me well enough to make me slave.
I think I could love a person like that
without ever realizing I was falling in love.