That’s the mistake you make with people you don’t know,
you mistake nothing for something.
I dreamed up a connection that wasn’t there.
For you my inner disturbances I laid bare.
My passions and desire, all for an unlit fire.
Is my jealousy that obvious?
Is it brighter than a dove on a blinding summer day?
I hope not. But I hope you feel it.
Does it burn, knowing that you cut me loose?
And that you picked something less than a fourth of who I am,
to please the little bit of a man that you think you are.
But I don’t want to tell that story, it’s dull.
Triumph is far too sweet to trade it for something weak.
Interesting enough it seems as if that’s what you did to me.
There’s no accounting for taste.
And that’s what you’ve shown as you let my love go to waste.