Fool's Gold

There’s a weight to your presence—

an unmistakable heaviness.

I can feel it steal my breath

and stifle my thoughts.

I can’t help but wonder what is and what is not…

true.

When did love become something to endure?

When did hate first begin to weave its way between us?

I suppose it would be easier to tell

if it had been out of the blue.

But I can’t pinpoint the exact moment

the transformation began:

when I went from your wife to just another…

punchline.

Maybe it’s just the loss of the illusion

that hurts the most.

I can’t seem to catch my balance

as the ground keeps shifting beneath my feet.

One day to the next—

love to hate—

and back to love.

I think I’ve stopped caring what the outcome will be.

I’m not even sure if I miss what we once had.

If we ever had it at all.

I long for what never was.

I grieve for the life I stole from myself.

It's a cruel twist of fate:

chasing a fantasy only to fall face first into reality.

If only I’d realized the true dream

was what I’d had all along.

Freedom.

The ability to choose.

When did I convince myself

I wasn’t enough?

A lifetime of self-loathing and self-doubt—

is that what led me to you?

I realize now how little I understood

even myself.

How could I have hoped to understand what I’d never known?

Love.

Such a small word

to weigh so much.

Such a heavy burden

wrapped up with the bow of promise.

Shining and shimmering

like forbidden treasure,

as tempting and disappointing

as fool’s gold.

____

© Lena Folkert, 2025