First comes truth,
realization comes after.
Shedding the last of my youth
into the depths of disaster.
Summer feelings comes with a price,
the cost of meeting someone
and pretending to be nice,
thinking: that's the one.
Too tired to engage in another story,
my feelings on a silver platter.
My heart beats with bountiful merry
for someone who did not matter.
Pouring my charm and allure.
A kindness, too sickingly sweet,
an act, too good to be true.
Madness, that is me.
Modern dating and the ways to plan it,
the dozen forms to self-sabotage
as a habitual nitpicking habit,
rendering me invisible like camoflague.
For the price of affection
and love ever-so mascarade
I let myself plunge into damnation
and fool myself in this charade.
