Feasting on Breadcrumbs

nutsonbench

She leaves him breadcrumbs,
He makes a feast of it.
She pays him lip service,
He hears her singing his praises.
She barely casts him a glance,
He feels lavished by her attention.
The bounty of his affections wilts in her hands;
Her skin so thick that Cupid’s arrows unable to find their mark.
Why then can he not be released from his dream-walk?
Surely, his is not the only heart that is destined to break.

© photo and words by Pamela Ferris-Olson

March 27, 2014

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