The Difference Between Truth And Love

Can't you illuminate your motives to me?
Your empty words make a charming tableau.
A demagogue shifting pieces of my heart's debris,
but your adoration is in constant flux.
How many others do you flatter and cosset?
You flirt and smirk with your clandestine eyes.
And pull the strings of these marionettes.
I've been strung along too many times.
I've already been the star of this charade.
I won't put on the trappings of unrequited love,
or return to the path I've already trod.
But you make me pause and consider.
It doesn't have to be the same maddening game.
It could be lovely, it could be everything.
It could be a happy couple in a frame.
Or it could be pain and hurt and confusion.
So many possibilities left unanswered,
because the puppet master is only an illusion,
of what could be perfection.