Short Lived

We are stories that I look back on, no longer in fondness.
Not in the sense of uselessness, but in the way of fruitless brevity.
Looking back it should have been so obvious,
the barrenness of our supposed love story,
but something about the veil of hope had me in a trance writing my own allegory.
For eight years I viewed you as my heart’s one and only desire,
but in reality you wilted into a pansy,
not being willing to provide what I require.