I've seen her once before,
Two years ago to be exact.
I followed her through an art exhibition,
A Tim Burton exhibition in fact.

Thoughts of her pale face,
Taunted me for years.
Like film reels, pictures played in my head.
From ear to ear.
Year to year.

I politely apologised to the people I ran into.
Never before had apologies fallen from my mouth,
So insincere.

My mind was on auto-pilot,
My body was in flight.
The people I nudged past were merely complications in the weather.
Storms, on a grey sky night.

She walked into a room,
Not a soul inside.
And as sure as I was unsure,
I trailed behind.

When I entered the room,
With not a soul inside,
She was not there.
Had she gone outside?
Had she disappeared into the brisk air of the night?

I despised myself for such anticipation

Well **** me,
Had I been deceived?
Why would my mind play such unpleasant tricks on me?
And enforce a false sense of reality?

The epitome of deceitful lust.
Was my mind, like most things in my life
Something I would have to learn,
Not to trust?

Two years later,
I saw her once more.
And two years later
Her pale face, I explored.