You ask me if
it's mere disenchantment
I suffer

as if I could
suffer thus

a disenchanted lass
walking the halls
of some mythical palace
with gregorian like
mutters on my lips
for what we
do not now
nor will ever have.

No you fool
it's not mere disenchantment
but instead
a dread
to the nth degree
well above and beyond
your understanding,

so save your query
for one who just might
answer
from a place
no deeper
than just below
their shallow
surface.

You bore me
with your divided
empathy
faceted so
as to nullify

it soothes no one.

WhiteRose