She waited for ages,
for anything, some sort of sign
even just a flashing on the screen
a spasmodic vibration
but the message never came.

She thought she caught a glimpse
once or twice, in those eyes--such an aloof blue--
of something more substantial
crimson passion in his vain
anything to cling to
before her foothold gave way.

She was always dreaming
Reading signs
in the irises
figments of pigment
to color her translation
telling quite a different story
weaving a web of delusion
of homespun lies
and illusion
that someone so
selfish
could even graze the surface
of the outer shell of selfless
what an improbable
farce
what a
fool
she was.