A Summer Job Taken Too Seriously

What it is you're pursuing –
it's enabling what you're doing
to my heart, when we're apart,
when we're together: an emotive work of art.
You grasp me tightly, breathing violently,
the shock sets in, anticipating another 10-10 –
That's AM to PM mind you,
your work it consumes you, troubles you, dooms you
to the mundane. The pain you feign to bear
slowly working you insane, vacating your head of your beautiful hair.
Do I dare beg of you to put the present first? The future can wait,
but before it's too late, save the now, quench your thirst.
And how, you ask?
Forget the task, see the opportunities vast.
Alas, you bolted at last, only to return/failing to learn from the past.
What will remain as the months away drain?
Would it be too forward to suggest
we don't seek to discern?
Life is meant for living, not wasting away
for minimum pay, fade to black from the grays
that shade your vision.
And now a revision of your decision –
Beg make your excision the mission.
Accomplish an escape
and your summer we will shape –
the colors alive and warm
when the melancholy from you is torn.