suddenly your loyalty is doubted
and creeping far, suspicion
gnaws at this your conscience
inscrutable

your ploy of secrecy blinding
a feigned smile and hollow cheeks
to you secure an ignorance
too little deep

i hear she, and my pretense
only kills me, when to another home
i have no door, no key

this illusion sobers me
clears your name of an
awkward sentimentality

and gone you shall wonder
at my silence then, and my
silence now; yet ponder
the illusionist's fallacy

too certain of yourself,
too certain of me
of anything to remain
only a sad soliloquy

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