I was infatuated

by him.

The Sun.

And happiness.

I ran,

chasing my felicity.

But he deluded me and I knew.

Deceptiveness could not bring joy.

Still, I ran.

Believing him to be better.

But he wasted my love and I knew.

Cruelty could never equate happiness.

I kept running.

Hoping against hope.

But he was my fallacy and I knew.

Pleasure was not implausible.

And it was then that I realized

I did not love the Sun,

the rather, the Moon.

And you.