Blank Inside

Only fools fall for lovers with claws,
And I was the meek definition,
Of a foolhardy pursuer.
Our downcast eyelids flitting,
And flitting,
And flitting,
With apprehension once unknown.
An unrequited limerence that shines,
Through my own constricted motions.
And if I am meek,
If I am silly-tired and weak,
A box full of all your "get well" cards,
And "just because" blank-inside creases of sheets,
With green destiny lingering inside,
Will not override my foolish nature.
I am a salad bar of poor life decisions.
I am a looking glass sentiment,
And it is not my words or actions which condemn me.
Why, it is my tinted aura and tainted mannerisms,
That sentence me to solitude.
Only I would fall for the minotaur,
When I so surely struggled with lions.
But as the ticking tock of the time passes by,
The energy dissipates.
The electric passion of a mutual connection,
Shatters into new freckles on our shoulders.
And as the frightened, mild friend I am,
I shyly slink away.