Exiled to searching for me in others
And I for you in her.
As yet nameless but soon a face will inhabit the void
Left in your wake.
I will preach contentment
Even joy
But I will be conscious of my lie
Aware of the rot.
For a blind man blessed with a week of colour
Fools no one
When he claims to prefer the dark.
He merely tricks himself into thinking
That he prefers the safety of indifference.
But the vibrance,
The perfect impurities of life
Will hook him like an ******, as they now hook me.
A quick fix can never remedy this
Physicality
With no minds married
Will always fall short
And end as quickly as it began.
Although this sounds plaintive
It is merely provident
As affairs of the heart
Require prudence; an anesthetic
Against future pain.