Who are you?

I’d like to know.

Can I take refuge in your mind?

I’m so intrigued by your design

Your glass eyes, they drown me

Stormy sea of green-stained blue

Despite your face of stone

I know you’re scared

Those waves betray you

I am a stranger

I know you not

I feel I’ve loved you all along

We’ve never met?

I must have forgot

Tell me, who are you?

I want to know.

I am so frightened by your sway

Yet I still watched for you today

Is this fate’s doing?

Serendipitous affair

I’m so inclined to meet your acquaintance

I search for words, but they aren’t there

You are a stranger

You know not that I exist

Still I know you inside and out

There’s not a corner I have missed

Who are you?

I need to know.

Can you please devour my soul?

Don’t even chew

Just swallow it whole

Intoxicate me

Warm amber bourbon, no ice

Fill me up with breathless sentiment

Become my most beloved vice

We are two strangers

Just crossing paths in the night

I’ll walk on by you if I must

But should you stop me, that’d be alright

© C. M. 2018 All Rights Reserved

Commentary: Once upon a time, commitment was a filthy ten-letter word to me. The concept of being with a solitary human being for longer than a few months (Let alone for a lifetime!) bewildered me and seemed most distasteful. Perhaps I was all too aware of my sometimes fickle and restless nature… After all, I still have considerable trouble deciding what to have for lunch most days.

As I’ve gotten older, my mindset has shifted. What I once happily viewed as “variety” now reeks of unpredictability and all too blatant incompatibility. I find myself desiring strong, well-aligned stability or nothing at all. However, there is nothing more exciting for me than a potential or newly blossoming love affair. These days, my favorite romantic flings are the ones that never actually occur… outside the confines of my mind, that is.

Why, you may ask? Well, let’s just say that I appreciate the boundlessness of my imaginative faculties… perhaps too much so. After many, many instances of trial and error, it has become quite clear to me what kind of man would suit me best. It is very rare that I come across such lovely beings, but when I do I typically prefer to admire them from afar; it’s much more romantic that way.

Perhaps I’m so in love with the idea of observing these captivating men in their “natural habitats” that the mere act of doing so is fulfilling enough in and of itself. Or, perhaps I am a spineless wuss who has far less to say in real life than she does in her poems.

It is also a possibility that I am entirely too protective of my boundless imaginative faculties. In my mind, no one gets their heart broken. No one is flawed, insecure, afraid or jealous. No one has to needlessly suffer or fall victim to life’s wayward ways. It can go on forever. I can love them… forever. We can’t hurt each other if there’s always an invisible wall between us that keeps us safe and sound, now can we?

Besides, it is far more entertaining to flirt with a puffed up imagination of how wonderful someone could be opposed to willfully poking holes in my flawless creations with confirmations of their inevitable (and often worrisome) human frailties. I mean, sure, Mr. Right is always Mr. Right until we find out he chews with his mouth open, never flushes the toilet, and has this uncanny way of making you wonder what you ever saw in him to begin with… but I digress.

I suppose this poem was for the ghost of a man I briefly crossed paths with. Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure who inspired it. It could have been sparked by any of the men I’ve loved purely in my mind, yet it is positively certain that it was none of them. -C


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*Featured Photo Credit: Johannes Plenio*
*All written content is that of yours truly. Plagiarism sucks. If you “borrow” something from someone you should always give credit where it is due, so please be sure to do so. Karma will thank you.*
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Written by nellsinaeternum

Just a girl lost in a daydream who is trying her best to color inside of the lines like everyone else, but is finding the act of smearing watercolor outside of the lines much, much more enjoyable.

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