The Brush-Off

Horridly it strikes me
Right between the eyes:
You did my dream,
yet still denied me.
I am rejected again
by your apparition.
You came so close
but gave me nothing,
not a pittance.
At a casual call
I might have silently begged.
On your appearing,
engulfing me in heavenly shock,
you know I would have
rolled right over,
Lapped up your gorgeous arrogance
like mothers milk.
I am tortured to see
your unaccompanied ubiety.
I think you must relish
the shameless guilt
of creating a jealous illusion
without even the grace
to involve my worshipful heart.
But this bold promulgation -
a flinty jab -
Made public, but oh so personal
is worse than your maiden offing
more painful and ribald,
And still I would suck up
All you have to give.

(c) Tasha Chinnock 2007