The Fool’s Favourite

Yesterday,
you seemed like you were everything and more,
and I loved you as if I was asking for a fall.
Maybe I was; you were far too perfect for me,
or so I thought as I turned a blind eye to your flaws.
(And you have so many blinding flaws).

Today,
I looked at you, and looked at you again.
I saw somebody who I almost didn't recognise;
you'd peeled off your skin overnight and destroyed
all my sugar-coated dreams of who you ought to be.
(Yet, ironically, who even your shadow couldn't be).

Tomorrow,
I'll sew the memories to fading scars and smile
at you the way I've always smiled for
who I thought you were. And you'll fool me again
because I only want to see my private illusion.
(It's more beautiful than you could ever be).