Poem: The Quandary

Illogical, irrational idiocy;
Incorrect, improbably indignant me.
Oh,  jealousy.
No claim to the fame of your name.
The defined lines, speckled freckles, sky eyes-
wandering free.
The laughing smile absorbs my whiles,
and I am struck by the luck
that it is something I see.
An hour of talk, coincidental walks,
kind assistance and mild inquiries.
Hope springs eternal,
oh, implausibly.
No right to fury or worry at the sight
of sweet words spoken to thee.
Stupid silly cupid melancholy,
imagining an arrow, straight and true and narrow,
in you buried,
when the bullseye starts in my heart
and ends alone at my extremities.
And yet,
and yet-
I cannot forget the way you smiled at me.

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