…could it be madness this?

Oh, how you wish!

Yes, you think. I know already you.

I’ve turned it over, again and again.

Take measured steps – weighed this, weighed that.

How does one live with this, with that?

This, different for all.

So you, when it suits,

I am your “manic” your “madwoman of Bedlam” – convenient that.

It’s only when my Klieg light is not focused on you.

Did you notice the convergence?

I did. It’s when that spotlight moves – alights on some other.

Ah yes, it must be illness this.

How can I be in my right mind if but a fraction of my attention is taken away from you!

Yes, me, I know, you’ve said – emotional, so damned ‘heavy.’

We both know that’s not true.

My light is my gift.

Dear it is you who is heavy… you can carry that weight.

I am the pragmatic, the mathematic – always thinking on an abstract plane.

I see the solution, you create the problem.

You so focused on me that you refuse to see you

– Nice work if you can get it.

 To look at the self?

“A waste of time” you say.

I’m weary of the hard or soft sell.

You buy want you want. But I’m not for sale.