Surrealist - 21/06/22 Rewrite Poem by Banksoya Sauce

Everyone is an empty canvas.
My mind tells me:
'They aren't really present',
'Their mouths don't feel'.

I wish it to be true,
So it would take from my value.
If they don't feel their jaws clench,
Then surely neither do I.

Then surely the sun settling on your neck
Doesn't provide you with warmth:
It is simply an illusion meant to keep me away.

Then surely our gentle embrace
Doesn't fulfill you with love:
It is simply an illusion to keep me hooked.