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
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
by Philip Wardlow 2013