I, the Idea

I am not a real person, Just an idea That everyone mythologizes, romanticizes, falls in love with, Until the truth is laid bare and my humanity is exposed. There, I am not some deified savior or embodiment of perfection, But flawed—so deeply flawed—and just as in need of rescuing as everyone else; And when that...

Promethean Affection

I'm not in love with you, Just the idea of you; And I posit every time you look at me There are daggers sheathed behind those eyes, Waiting to pierce with calumny and spite. So I'll do what I always do: Antagonize you; Treat you with malice and ice, And watch that sweet physiognomy Fade...