invest myself in this game,
tried not to make myself
available to the cold grasp of
repeated disappointment.
Feeling you slip through my fingers
yet again is no consolation.
As I am already overrun with parting
gifts acquired in place of a dream.
Fruitless in my efforts to taint
affairs of the heart with caution
and logic, you lead me so
easily stumbling through a carefully
choreographed dance of passionate
advances and contrived retreats.
I miss a step and feel my heart
trampled as the dance continues
without me.
How much, how many times must
I lose you until faith devours itself?
When will love tire of its relentless
torture of my spirit?
When comes paralysis of hope to
rescue me from this slow fade to black?
Still you pry yet another chance from
the tears that fill my eyes....
shattering my expectations as
each one falls.
RLT �2000
