Polished Light

He walked right in, that easy way he has,

took the chair, ignored the silent, tired mass.

Just smiled and talked, a golden boy with grace,

and took the credit, right before my face.

I’d bled for months, for every single line,

watched passion fade, felt progress undermine.

But his new watch, it caught the sun, a gleam,

as he just gestured, living out my dream.

No sweat, no strain, no doubt upon his brow,

he got the nod, I wonder, truly, how.

And the taste of it, this sour, bitter bile,

I swallowed hard, and forced myself to smile.