|
|
Stranger
It’s been years;
they are gone—
or perhaps they were never really there.
Just an illusion I crafted,
woven from the threads of longing,
veiled by the mist of my heart.
Now that the fog has lifted,
the person I loved,
my hero,
my ideal,
has unraveled, piece by piece.
And standing before me,
in the harsh light of truth,
is a stranger—
familiar in face,
but foreign to my soul.
Do share your thoughts:)
Copyright ©
Martha Brown
|
|