The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

I am but a dark silhouette back-lit

by your imaginings of what I must be.

My frame of reference is not yours,

nor is your own mine to see.

I cannot hope to know the true depth

of the strangeness that lurks behind those eyes;

the sadness, the desperation, and the longing

cannot be accurately defined as simply measured

by a ruler or thrown upon a scale like a piece

of meat.

Think me misguided, corrupt, or lost?

Think me a friend, lover, or a hero?

You would be wrong on all accounts.

I am simply a solitary soul cast adrift,

striving to find a good home to lift

me up from this cold stone floor and prop

me up next to a nice warm fire and hold

me tight.

by Philip Wardlow 2013