The time I spend with you in my head,
I am your mirror mirror on the wall,
projecting the image you want to see,
but your attention is only directed inwards,
inconsideration, let me dry your boots,
you've been pacing in muddy fields again.

Self-reflection was never meant to extend,
beyond the lengths you push it.
I thought the bubble would burst,
its flexibility must be boundless.

Surmounting tendencies are palpably overlooked.
I don't want to be your ego food.

Another aneurysm,
you slam dunk it down my throat.
Only too eager to dispel my theory,
blot out my increment of hope,
at a perilous moment.

Now everything has been excavated,
it that what you were after?
To stifle my song?

Inflation didn't last long.
You were armed ready with the needle.

How life can change,
from one day to the next,
each breathes different than the last.

A surprise, you might be my kind.
Reading a fresh expression in your eye,
is it the light of the ethereal moon?

The feeling fades,
as ephemeral as it dithered,
you are looking less refined,
still pleased to see me.

The tone dies transitory.
I forget to watch for your ocular exposé,
exerting an efflux of futile dialogue.
You allow the wind to carry it away,
rousing a rout.

What is the depth of the connection?
I wish I could sense it,
without gaiting back bemused.

I feel like there's some dishonesty,
in the way you speak to me,
swayed to believe what is ours is mine,
something genuine.

It must be an illusion,
you paint every charm you collect.
Remuneration for loyalty,
I see it exhibited publicly,
the special quality that subsisted and your credibility,
waned.