For Me, Not You

For Me, Not You

How good is my imagination?

I can fool myself into thinking that maybe if I close one eye, (the left one, the sinister one) and see things from a different angle, it will be as it always was.

But this has become an empty room, void of touch and gentle words. It is now a private conversation spoken only for one. One who is now unhinged. It is not your voice that I hear answering me when I speak, but the echo of my own, flavoured with the sweet spice of memory.

I wear a mask of melting wax, similar to those I've worn a thousand times before. If you take one away you will just find another, painted brightly, the colour of love's lasting impression, the most loving expression. I can be quite convincing, I can fool everyone around. I can fool you. But why should I bother?

You aren't here to note the difference.