Was that the way she looked
The day I fell in love with her?
She was blissfully living her
Rural life when some distant heart
Flung itself at her feet.

The lie I told myself was
An oft repeated one: she would
Love you too if only
She knew who you really were.

If she did not, she would
Soon find out. My words became
Weapons, designed to hurt, to
Make her feel something even if
It was not the feeling I wanted.

Perhaps what I felt for her was
The real fiction: I called it
Love, but giving something a name
Does not make it true.

It was a cheap substitute, and
Left the aftertaste to match.
Perhaps that is a metaphor for
Me too: I was a long way from
Being the person I purported to be.

She did not leave a gap in
My life: I chose to create one.
Perhaps knowing the difference
Is the difference.

03/07/2020

Posted on 03/12/2020
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince