It may have been a fling to you
and little more. To me it was
the world I’d built our future on.
You threw me down as though I were
a paperback you’d read and liked
but hardly loved: a hollow book.
Abandoned, desolate, bereft,
I felt my love was quite enough
for both of us. I begged you stay.
You laughed and said, things end, don’t weep,
discard one book and start another.
You left without a second glance.
I thought ours was a True Romance.
Richard Fleming
