Shattered pieces, my memories
A look in the eye can deceive,
as I trace your iris for signs.
Only to see my reflection …
Scattered remnants of the past.
If what I envision is not mine,
who does it belong to?
I watch movements
to see if they betray the words,
seeming to flow effortlessly
A master of the façade.
A look in the eye can deceive,
as I trace your iris for signs.
Only to see my reflection …
Scattered remnants of the past.
If what I envision is not mine,
who does it belong to?
I watch movements
to see if they betray the words,
seeming to flow effortlessly
A master of the façade.
Posts
Oh, how terribly sad. To be involved with a master of the façade is one of the more dreadful things that can happen to a person. I hope this is not autobiographical. (Although, as usual, your ability to find the words to quantify and qualify such things astonishes!)
ReplyDeleteRJ, illusion can be sad, when we think people are
ReplyDeletesomething they are not.
No, this is not about my life at present:)
Thanks for the nice comment!
Sad but so often true, unfortunately.
ReplyDeleteExcellent emotion filled words.
Oh, I thought you captured this so brilliantly!
ReplyDelete'I trace your Iris for signs, only to see my own reflection.'
Abthony, it can happen.
ReplyDeleteWell, thanks Susannah:)
ReplyDeleteI also like "I trace your iris for signs," and think how often we do that. Know that something isn't ringing true but can't quite see why that is. Again, your word dexterity is wonderful,
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
If what I envision is not mine
ReplyDeleteWho does it belong to?
I love this poem. And the above two lines spoke to me so gently, it hurts.
Lovely one, Pamela.
Hugs
Elizabeth, it seems to happen more than we like.
ReplyDeletenino, we all have our own visions that belong
ReplyDeleteonly to us.