Yet Again

by Jason Stotts

On the heels of an ecstatic night,
Comes the familiar sting,
The bitterness of betrayal.

Struck from unguarded quarter,
She, who should have been the ward,
Instead inflicted the wound.

That which had begun to bloom,
Trust, Philia, Eros

What now?
Must I solitarily trudge on?
The bitterness of remorse.

Why did it happen?
It was the wrong thing to do,
It was the irrational choice.

The chooser should have chosen better,
She who had been defended against charges of irrationality and immaturity…
Unjustly defended – it turns out.

I was to be her Erastes…
She was to be my Eromenos…
Is it lost to us now?

Thus seems to be my fate:
A prize, a goal, a promise…
Vacuous nothings!

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