Not quite enough light
as I rounded the corner;
distinguishing, at first,
a glint of kindness, then it's absence.
If I had danced a bit longer on the edge of your sardonic stage
I would've stumbled on a steady beat of naiveté,
always one note behind your calculating symphony.
The shallow beams from the timeworn ghostlight
cast elucidation on your conductorial robes;
it is not often that one sees
so well in the dimness of love's sweet fog.
Alas, the savage cadenza reverberates
as if a prophetic whisper, illuminated my secret fortitude.
I turned back, fierce with indignation.