Forelorn, I strike her from my today, finding

only comfort in your being, that being, that fluttering
flittering in some light in my imagination like
a mayfly, here now, gone tomorrow and yet
procreative, proactive and real, unlike you,
who comes and goes from my mind’s eye again
and again and I’m still alone with my thoughts,
the ones that leave me cold at night, naked
without your reality.
Who you were, how you occupied this space in my
existence I am just not sure. Perhaps a song, maybe
a movie, somewhere along the way you became the
All who is everything: muse, whore, soulmate spectacular
I know nothing more about you than what my imagination
affords, and I will not afford to pay this bill much longer
It costs too much and you cost too much as
I’m not really sure if you actually exist, or if you are
just a relentless trollop occupying the red district in
my mind.

Published by Adam F.C. Fletcher

I'm a speaker and writer who researches, writes and shares about youth, education, and history. Learn more about me at

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