Hope’s Drone

Hoping that he would save the best for last.
I scoffed while most of my chances flew past.

“I am fine alone!”; was my sole refrain.
A weak mechanism to hide from pain.

Time rolled by & I accepted my lot.
I knew what love felt like; all else could rot.

What’s the point, when you know how it should feel?
Each onion after, deflates as you peel.

I’ve chances left & I’m no more alone.
“I’ll know him when I see him!”
…hope is sewn.