I do not regret you.
I lament your pretended adoration.
I your secret lover
so like any others before.
set ablaze in borrowed moments.
I bore my heard in your glory,
but know it ill founded.
Lips pressed to my neck,
could not find the heart.
I could love you,
if I was fool enough.
I danced at your laughter,
and hold on to it.
wrapped in gossamer wishes,
and frailer desires.
In night when I wake, wanting,
I dream of you through white eyelids.
My lips crave to taste you.
And now in the darkness, you asleep,
My litlte mistake I adore you.
Do you dream of me, or are you torn.
I do not regret you,
but I lament your adortation.
I lay my head to your feet.
I am broken.
