Reaching The Sun
I was infatuated
by him.
The Sun.
And happiness.
I ran,
chasing my felicity.
But he deluded me and I knew.
Deceptiveness could not bring joy.
Still, I ran.
Believing him to be better.
But he wasted my love and I knew.
Cruelty could never equate happiness.
I kept running.
Hoping against hope.
But he was my fallacy and I knew.
Pleasure was not implausible.
And it was then that I realized
I did not love the Sun,
the rather, the Moon.
And you.