We wandered through the art gallery and I watched you change from a man appeasing a woman to a man meeting his inner self for the first time.
There we stood -silent in awe of a masterpiece. I watched you imagine a life on the ocean, amidst the frozen peaks, beneath the big, blue sky, and I felt something stir in my bones that I hadn't felt in a very long time.
Who could blame me for confusing the intimacy of the moment for intimacy between you and I?
And who could blame me when I refused to let that memory go, grasping onto it, clinging to it, leaving my claws dug deep into your being for the sake of preserving that moment for an eternity?
I could not have known that without imagination art is just paint upon paper, or that without my fantasy you remain just a man, devoid of passion.
—
"I thought we were falling in love," I whispered.
"It must have been a trick of the light," you replied.
You looked at me with the same fealty you gave the Aurora borealis, for the last time.
YOU ARE READING
Midnight Thoughts
PoesiaA collection of thoughts and feelings about romance, yearning, and growing up, written as poetry, musings, and short stories.
