I yearned for an inkling of your love.
Misleading brazenness for interest.
Deriliously basking in your laugh.
Long stares, hot flushes, sweaty palms,
I soaked in your ethereal beuty.
Oh! How tables turn.
Those at the top of the tree
are now at the bottom
For all that has now passed to me
Leaving an ennui feeling.
And how ironic life gets,
For fish to die of drowning
Bats are now flying by day.
The blind are driving the buses steady.
While you are fawning,
I am miles away.
A mirage of what you had.