Thursday, February 5, 2015

On infatuation

I was infatuated with you, dear,
No other word describes the way I felt.
How did it happen? Why? When you were near,
I was bewitched,  all  my reserve would melt.
With dark sunglasses tilted on your nose,
You glanced at me, and I returned your look
And couldn't look away if I chose,
Your effect on me more than I could brook.
What followed, every time that we would meet,
Became a fencing match, of parry, thrust;
You won the match, and I signaled defeat;
My passion spent, love crumbled into dust.
Infatuation isn't meant to last,
But it consumes, until its heat has passed.

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