I AM THAT MOUSE
Imaginary Lovers - Poem by I AM THAT MOUSE
'he loves me, he loves me not'
thoughts while sketching stick figured lovers
on scrapped paper
she draws an arrow through the heart of her imaginary man
the one she saw as so much more than black & white
the one who she felt drew a straight line to her soul
the one who now bleeds red for being a failed prospect.
'he never loved me, not like i loved him'
thoughts while drawing popped balloons
on her old poetry
she can almost feel the air deflating on her fingertips
the air that she wants to breathe once again
the air that has a hint of his rum-stained scent
the air that has become bitter cold since his depart.
and there they are...two stick-figured scribbles...dead and breathless...all because imaginary lovers leave the real ones behind...
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