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.



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