Fool Astray
I can’t seem to drop you
Every highway in my mind
No matter how hard I strive
Diverts from its intended course
To the image of your face
Smirking. Stubble coarse.
Our conversations
Now conducted by text
Gives me a welcome rest.
It’s better at a distance
Lest my eyes reveal me
Or worse…I sight in yours – resistance
But deeper still, I go
I can’t help but feel weak
Your bearing strong, mine meek.
Wincing under the realisation of my own inferiority
All for nothing it seems
Because I’m not your priority.
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