What shall I say of the mirage in you.
Bright eyes, delicate soul,
with tenacious heart
Blood running, spilling.
(or was it alligator tears)
It wasn’t until I slipped, did I finally
read the sign, “Be careful, wet floor.”
You think too much of yourself
and not nearly enough
All IN or ALL OUT.
Absolutes seem to be your trademark.
You are perfection.
You are lovely.
You are alone.
And you like it like that. ( no you don’t)
Mirages are only real to the person
observing, not the mirage itself.
It knows its not real.
by Philip Wardlow 2016