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.