I was mentored
in the madrigals prophesying I’d
encounter something magical.

Investing all my
capital foolishly, I fluently
attached myself to
jealous theatrics,

a character so
sick at heart,

trying to play
the part
of hero was too
drastic for
the most
irascible actors
to bear.

I’m holding out for you
to beg me
to stay
since no one ever
has made me their
true endeavor.

But maybe I’m
better off

and this
romanticized radical who can
match my fanaticism
is just
my heart ignoring wisdom
in favour of
my pain’s depiction of

Maybe she
only exists in
loose leaf,
my ethereal

because the only
thing I’ve found in
the one world I did not build

is static.


One thought on “Madrigals

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