Ordinary Person

It’s one thing to lose faith
in someone, it’s another to
abandon belief altogether,
it begets the question of
whether you loved them at all,
I’ve walked those ghostly
dead ends, where camoflauged
percussionists play feverish
beats that snake their way up
Babelic towers to labyrinthine
realms where
unparagoned bedlam reigns,
I’ve looked askance at
genuine affection, searching
the inflexion of your voice
for resentment and pique,
it’s sad because I not only
lost sight of you but could
no longer look at
my reflection in the mirror
because I didn’t recognise
the bearded man who
wore my clothing and had
my brownish-black eyes,
you found joy in
things I deemed insignificant,
but I’ve come to realise
that there isn’t a grand scheme
at play which, when grasped
rewards the thinker with a
profound conviction
that surpasses delight,
it’s the little things
that make our lives pivot on
happiness,
look at me now, pining for
someone whose grace
I dismissed as gullibility,
you looked after me when
I lay hurt and discontent,
and I perceived that love
as something that only grazed
my contours and didn’t
understand me enough to
overpower me,
I realise now that you did
all you could in your
finitude, we were never
built for unrelenting love in
these perishing bodies
with minds that aren’t
transcendent, irrespective
of what people say,
the pinnacle of affection
is accepting imperfect
perfection without trying to
fit the other into a dream
of Eden harmonising
with glimmering stars,
I miss your winsome smile
that now sparks mirth
in a harrowed soul that
traverses the misty waters
of nostalgia,
I made scepticism my kosher
even though it left a bitter
aftertaste, and now I hanker
for beauty to find me again
and turn my
lamentations into hymns and
aubades, but perhaps it’s
all self-pity,
a cry for sympathy because
the nights are cold,
a call for someone to
endorse my feelings because
I’m becoming a mote of dust
that a thin ray of togetherness
briefly illuminated before
allowing it to drift into
the darkness.