I wasted all of the beautiful words I owned on you.
Our dalliance a mere sigh, foolishly I thought it sempiternal.
You pressed yourself into me and I conflated an erstwhile tryst
I imagined you were demure, your evanescent smile constructed to disguise,
To conceal your ever efflorescent soul.
You granted me your imagined self, composing yourself a symphony built on mellifluous nothing.
On gossamer strings you constructed a life for us.
Our life together is pyrrhic and we burn down in flames.
And yet I dwell in the penumbra of the ruins of our imagined life, hoping for the scintilla that will reignite us.
I wasted all of the beautiful things I owned on you.