I could never understand what the heart needed;
Even in the throes of infatuation,
Even in the wiles of what I’ve called “love,”
I’d only ever constructed a mythos
Wherein you were a god who could grant my wish
To be free of lonesomeness.
But so cruel gods are,
That you nurtured my fantasy for your own gain,
That you broke bread with me, ate all of it, then asked for more.
Me, an optimistic fool
Who saw the silver linings in your tempestuous ways
And stood in your rain with no umbrella.
Your meek manner: such a perfect façade
What could make this hiding face feel seen
What could foster such a sense of comfort
As to dupe me time and time again
When your true colors showed
And I imagined them of rainbows.
Here, there
I ponder you.
I ponder the things we might’ve been
Had I stayed deluded for the rest of my life
But this cycle cannot repeat
I’m letting you go.