choking on a cloud of rhetoric
we talk in trivialities
words without meaning
to pass the time
while our eyes try softly to convey
meanings without words
sweet futility

in a pathos of distance
where hope is a distraction
and truth is a luxury
noone can afford
where lovers are mirrors
to please their others
nothing is created
only reflections
masks worn by mannequins
exquisitely painted
and half-hearted solipsism
follows every encounter

but i want to meet you
in the space between mirrors
where absence of feedback
strips costumes away
bereft of the knowledge
of how to be perfect
forced under duress
to be true

an opportunity lost
instead i talk
in words without meaning
artifice and superfice
patiently i wait
for your mask to slip
revealing a soul beneath
a soul i could love
or even despise
unpainted unsanded but true

and i want to love you
in the space between mirrors
as someone original and beautiful
not merely a reflection
of a picture of an ideal
in a pathos of distance
sweet futility


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