I am missing

I am having the hardest time
reconciling the man you are
with the man I invented in my
rosy imagination. How can you

Be not you? But you seemed
so real, solid to touch, soft to hear
sweet to eyes. Beautiful to heart.
How can you be this you? Cold
to listen, distant sound fading,
in the arms of a stranger who
is laughing. Her mirror glinting.

This entry was posted in creative writing, love, poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to I am missing

  1. I suppose we’re always inventions and reinventions, but always imagination, in other’s minds. Of course, some imaginations are more informed than others. I like this, good work.

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