an old story

you were so transparent, that was why I thought I loved you.

I could spin endlessly into the depths of what your eyes reflected.

The words you chose and

the touch you could render to mean more than you knew.

All of that was transparent

Maybe it happened so a writer could have a muse

we are such longing creatures, no?

Our longing outlasts other experiences, or so I say, who is to say?

moments fling themselves into thoughts

I am flailing so I do not attach myself to more distraction

when you, your hands on my hips, said "I want to be with you so much"

I just walked away and stilled myself. stop.

you were transparent like nobody else I knew at that time

That was why I thought I loved you

Now I realize the fleeting rush were illusions fed by fantasies

of a love you never even felt

and yes I was shown all this and yes I have nothing to miss