We met in a familiar place,
of quiet serenity,
It had no other parallel,
becoming uncommon to someone else.

You whispered to me of my perfection,
my goodness
and kindness
and beautiful reflection.

You whispered to me that I was the one,
your light
so bright,
You became the sun.

You whispered to me that we were the same,
a male version of you,
identical, in unison,
but that was just a game.

Now I sit here, with my perfection,
my goodness
and kindness,
scanning my reflection.

And you there, I see,
your soft hands curled around a mug,
his around you.
You sit there, with him, his lies and impurity.

I was once a faceless doll,
clean and concealed.
I remained that way for a time
'til curiosity caused my new form to be revealed.

At first my face was plain.
I was content and free,
but curiosity was not the only artist,
you see.

They seamed in their stitches
and drew upon my face.
I was new yet again,
changing with an unbelievable pace.

They said I was no longer just a copy
but unique and enviable.
But was I not formed from their desires,
an image which their liking could resemble?

Were these thoughts even mine to own?
I wish I could be that faceless doll once more,
but I am ragged and marked now,
though their drawings have not soiled my core.

I am an imperfect artist,
and this is my canvas.

Your radiant presence leaves me speechless.
I say the words,
just to myself.

The sweet scent of tea lingers on your lips.
I want to taste your essence,
know what you know.

I want to fill my soul with yours,
learn from you, laugh with you.
I want to feel content.

But I can't, for I am an imperfect artist,
and my canvas is not worthy of your portrait.

As I gazed at the celestial sky, I came across a star.
It was bright and brilliant yet unattainable.
My power was limited,
my hunger insatiable.

I thought if I stared long enough,
my limits would be surpassed.
But I was wrong.
Desire demanded action. And without it, forever it would last.

I searched within myself to find the answer.
It remained hidden from detection,
so I searched you instead.
Your eyes were flawless gems and untarnished was your complexion.

Those gems reflected the heavens.
And had captured what I desired.
I was complete.
Nothing more was required.

I had managed to attain the unattainable.

A visit was due.
It had been a while since our last one.
I buttoned up my coat,
for winter had come.

The walk was short,
my father at the lead.
He held the bouquet and cake
and he moved with speed.

We came together to celebrate,
Each of us bringing something to the feast.
It was her day.
Yet he sat in his seat, uncaring at the least.

I had to be civil,
so I walked on in,
and shook his hand,
I wished him well, though I think I lied. Was it a sin?

No, then I realised I meant it.
Not for him, but for her,
to ease her worries and cares,
because I cared for her, she was my grandmother.

The room was full.
We were together as planned.
The fire blazed.
Cake in our hands.

Her favourite show came on,
but he called for a change as his attention drifted.
It was her day, I thought,
and she deserved to do what she wanted, to do something different.

It was getting late,
and he wanted to go and rest.
But as she helped him up, he produced something,
A necklace of silver, pure and brilliant, and whispered, ''You're the best''.

Then as he exited the room,
I wished him well once again.
He nodded.
I nodded back with love this time, not disdain.


I realised then they were from a different age,
An age of hidden emotion,
but it was theirs,
and they loved each other through the quiet and the unwanted commotion.

The day was young and bright when we first met,
She had stared at me,
appraising.
Her eyes had set.

I was an alien,
an invader.
She had to search my eyes,
to check that I, too, was ****-sapiens.

I thought she was done,
for she accepted me then.
But I was wrong.
She peeled at my layers like I was an onion,

discovering who I was. I hadn't known what I was concealing.
My life was a charade
till, like a lioness,
she had begun ripping, revealing.

I was no longer an alien,
She had heard my tale, both the sorrow and joy, and I hers.
Yet she searched my eyes again
and discovered that I, too, am ****-sapiens.