You shall admire me from a distance,
From within a dream,
For your heart is an established coward,
Hide-don’t-seek—a well-established theme.
You will not build castles with my name,
Or decorate their walls with our story.
You will not write a library of our adventures,
Time well-spent and endless glory.
You shall not venture into fiction,
Where you are the hero, I—the plot.
You shall keep me at a distance,
My image—absent thought.
Then, your heart will return from exile.
Pleading.
It will take your hand and lead you
Into moments it claims are yet to come.
It will open books of history of the future,
And show you all that which we could once become.
And you shall sit there, reading,
In my castle, lit by my dancing flame.
A monument of admiration.
Upon your lips, a declaration of my name.
You will sustain this blissful state
Until you realize, once again,
That your heart is playing
It’s familiar game.
Your heart—a creature, lost.
By choice.
Was never mine, no longer yours.
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