Desperation Rekindled

I know what you're looking for.
It isn't me.
I'm what you're looking at, looking through,
Trying to see the greener grass.

But all you find are weeds,
Remnants of clover.
And so you take my hand, until the sun,
My enemy the light.

When fantasies of summer are renewed.
Your thoughts turn,
Burning me in the blistering heat,
Of undiscovered possibility.

And I am left in the rain,
Selling to false profits,
For moments of validation, redemption,
Awaiting your desperation rekindled