The Pessmist II

The Dream
The people glaze and stare
with wrists of gold and fingers adorned with silver.
In my hands, the false anticipation of such;
to compare: like the twinkling star who wishes for the sun's glare.

It is not the thought of the riches,
but their beauty that the wearer possesses before.
The desire to feel the warmth of femininity
that my heart longs and searches.

Reality
Your touch sets me ablaze,
the inferno of satisfaction
that lasts only awhile,
with the feel of satisfaction still in place.

The pessimist still has not left me alone,
it pulls me from your warmth.
O, touch me again,
so that the pessimist will be out, flown.