A poem I wrote about the body I based on your shadow

I feel like I’m forgetting who you really are
As I gradually replace you with a doppelganger
A creature with every sharp feature and each small scar
But with more understanding and fewer fits of anger

I’m afraid my love for you will become as hollow
As the shell of you I slowly create
It grows more enchanting with each tomorrow
As I purge it of every disagreeable trait

He would look at me like you sometimes do
Soft eyes fixed with an easy smile
But he’d speak to me with gentleness too
And it would never feel like I’m with a child

I think about him every night
What he would do if he were near
The hallucination is easier when you’re out of sight
But he’ll never truly be with me here

He’s built from the shadow that you cast
Against my eyes and in my mind
Two dimensional no matter how vast
Too sheer for me to hide behind

I’m not sure if I could fall for you again
Now that we’re past the times we almost had
But to love this imitation is a sin
Please fill the place he’s sitting at

Passenger side

Mascara eyes

Chasing blurs of green

On the opposite side

Of a rain speckled window
Growing tired from grasping for something lasting 

When there’s only ephemeral views

On the other side of the glass 
Close them for a while
Capture a tiny thought 

With Venus fly trap lashes

And let it stretch it’s wings 

In the hollow places 

No longer filled with leaving things

Mt. St. Helen’s


Evergreen air

Spills over fern soft ridges

Through woody maple tendrils

Moist and dripping with moss

Dropping October colored leaves

On damp earth and puddled asphalt.

The lazy pattering of the cloudfull sky

Meets the rushing of a newborn waterfall

And baited breath is punctuated

By sighs of awe.

Filled

This cavern knows emptiness,

Even with a stone inside.

Fuller than ever before,

But hollow none the less.

Responds like an army

To the foreign body.

Unaware that it’s flesh now,

An unintentional adoption,

Can’t fathom how

It let this happen.