The Fool’s Sonnet

I asked you over and over again.Your coyness never let you down.When we argued about what might have been,You it was who piffled I was the clown.
I still can’t believe that the lie was true,How it felt like love, whatever that is:I always found then lost myself in you,You just tossed your head and blew kisses.
The clown is the fool who expects too muchJust because he knows he’s got better senseBut fights against himself, clutch after clutch,To sweep up some hint of innocence—
A wick in the mirk of a callous breast?That can light the way for a lonely guest?

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