Fool Astray

I can’t seem to drop you

Every highway in my mind

No matter how hard I strive

Diverts from its intended course

To the image of your face

Smirking. Stubble coarse.

Our conversations

Now conducted by text

Gives me a welcome rest.

It’s better at a distance

Lest my eyes reveal me

Or worse…I sight in yours – resistance

But deeper still, I go

I can’t help but feel weak

Your bearing strong, mine meek.

Wincing under the realisation of my own inferiority

All for nothing it seems

Because I’m not your priority.