I spy with my little eye,
lovers, fools, so blind,
to think that they know each other completely,
to think that they understand each other well,
to think that they adore them for them,
not for their kind words,
not for their sweet gifts,
not for their warm embrace,
nor their false confessions of masked lust.
For is that not what this love is,
a silly reality twister,
a drug giving you the highest high?
Ah, not without consequences;
seen when true nature creeps out,
when an argument turns to a grudge,
when trust crumbles and shatters,
over unknown information.
I refuse to take a dosage of this poison,
I see clearly and wish to remain with sight,
so perhaps some day I can indulge,
when I can have my love and see it too.