I, too, have beautiful thoughts, too,
But my introversion gets lost in you.
And while you, soothe,
I am horrored in the honor of losing you.
To imply no greater being be mine,
Is truthfully amusing –
But never singled by this circumventing mind’s cycling;
Never by the chants you gallantly peruse in my mending.
I, too, want your beauty for me, too,
But seems courters are popular
In their wealthy illusions.
Maybe therefore I am a lonesome, broken scholar,
Maybe therefore of you I shall make no more allusions.