"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious" - Albert Einstein
His hair, so dark
Fades into the shades of black and white
That are our city.
His tears, so fickle
Fade into the filthy pool of gray
That is self-pity.
His voice, so monotone
Its projection as a wave depicts
The flatline of my heartbeat.
His mind, so solitary
Its projection on the silver screen
Is one lonely film on repeat.
His eyes, so cold
See the world through a microscope
Mistaking forests for their trees.
His soul, so broken
Flees through the shattered looking glass
Mistaking his image for me.
He, the one I tried to be,
Is now dead alive and haunting me.
He, the one I still do love
Now cries out like a Mourning Dove.
It is a terrible thing,
To see the ones we so respected,
So loved,
So looked up to,
Sink so low.
YOU ARE READING
In My Mind's Eye
PoetryIf life is but a dream, I will never achieve lucidity. #6 in Poetry (2/14/2022) Runner-Up in the Metaphorically Spoken category of the Summer Sun Awards, 2016 Cover by Seth Yurchisin (IG: @sjyurchisin Note that none of th...
