Poem: Veronica, Part 2

This message is for a woman who no longer exists. Please, if you see her, please tell her this.

I still see your face whenever I close my eyes. I still feel you in my chest, on the left side, I, am not sure which dimension I am living, a pocket universe, a make-pretend city, but the mirage in the rearview appears even nearer, as if the farther I drive, the crystal get clearer, unconscious acts, I see, through mirrors, a tell-tale tarot, the dream just gets weirder.

I’m not sure how you managed the escape speed, defying laws, like gravity, still just a theory, because our best times, were all in my mind,  colorblind, my twisted head, a mathematic equation, experimenting, in bed, and yet, imagination, Einstein, once said, was more important, red, so I, fed the lies, fantaszied, the truth despised, then delusions, reclusions, some cosmic confusion, and I’m not sure if you were ever real.

I think you have somehow become numb to me, the pain in cheek, with doublespeak, novocain, somas, and TCH, I can’t say how this has come to be, but whatever it is you are taking, please, save some for me. I don’t want to feel this anymore.

Except, I do, a fool, for Love is true, and here, the proof, you, dear, have summoned my fear, from bottomless hell, you, some evil spell, no, curse, so much worse, and more urgently, impertinently, don’t touch me, I’m ugly, and certainly, unworthy, neglected, rejected, this open wound, infected, sought medicine, relief, clear the grief, congested, and terror, suspected, of sabotage, error, corrected.

Then, introspected, healed and well-rested, honorable, respected, my whole world, affected, now this Love, interconnected.

Forgive me, I have fallen short of my Truth, and likewise, you, are human, too.

This mess we made, an interfusion, our best would fade, sought absolution, and substitutions, made so many resolutions, still children, we are, in the grand scheme, stars, team evolution, this holy theme, Love revolution,  and Truth seen, high resolution, it’s time, supreme, to let go of this dream.

So, to my queen, from her dear pawn, please listen, whether fiction, or non, imaginary friend, or foe, such woe, forgiven, and escaped from these prisons, attachment, like chains, addictions, like pain, incisions, and pages blood-written, and turned, dark towers, now burned, new lessons, learned, and imprinting, angels singing, here I call in a New Beginning.

I Love you. I always will. Be happy, my Love. Be well.

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