You were always standing there;

starry eyed.

Fiery red, and your humor dead.

He walked by like he was on the clouds,

guarded by Aphrodite and Zeus' lightning bolts.

And I:

I stood in the rain,

waiting and waiting and waiting

for you to return home,

for you to see past my obnoxious ways,

for you to forget his dreamy eyes and soft voice.

But you were still starry eyed,

and I was left in the rain.