Mysterious woman,
you walked into my life as if from a dream of deliverance.

As though
your nuanced silences,
your beautiful, palimpsestic eyes,
your soft, unsure smiles
were all that I had sought.
All that I could legitimately seek. Yet I realise
what a mirage that is.
As always, you will go your way, I shall go mine.

And none of this will matter,
these feelings,
this hope,
nothing.

And none shall remember,
no trace will remain
of your haunting blue eyes.
Blue eyes that drained into two eternities of oblivion,
hopes past and hopes yet to pass one by.

As always, ultimately, I will repel you.
My cheap sentimentality, my unlovely eagerness, my presumptuous fantasies.

All that remains
is to wait for it all to wash over, and for the anaesthetic of inevitability
to drug me to sleep.

Maybe I'll meet you at last in my dreams.
Maybe not.