What shall I say of the mirage in you.

Bright eyes, delicate soul,

with tenacious heart

beating,

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.

Then you

suddenly

disappeared.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016