The Path

We used to be such loyal companions, but no longer can I call us thus.
You decided to take the other path in the forest than me
and you shoot your arrows of attention at my currently most praised deer;
a strategy, is it not? to make me feel thus like a 3rd wheel of a horse carriage.

Yet you fail to notice that I grin at the small-talk compliments you pay
and in silence laugh at that ridiculously fake flirtatious sway
as I feel your eyes following me the whole time
As it was me who made you who you are - but now you are much less sublime.

We have been here before; I know your nature too well.
I shall watch, listen and smirk at your evident bashfulness
and patiently wait for the moment I hear your feet sliding amid the fallen leaves,
the ones on the path I always take.

And I shall only smile and torture you with my silence,
until you will decay and become one of the fallen leaves
amid which future aspirants for my love and attention will swift

And behind them you shall walk and their gifts carry, drop and lift.