I Am Not Macbeth, I Am the Fool
You wanted to give me everything—
everything—
every last thing—
you bared yourself and said—I am yours.
You said—
we would out-do Mellors and Constance!
And I, l'idiot—
I looked at you through the eyes of a man—
voracious—cunning eyes.
When I stopped—mid-stride—
I saw it all—suddenly—clearly—through your eyes.
Too late.
Je suis Le Fou—non, je suis une fou.
Copyright © Tris Tram | Year Posted 2010
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