Poetry

Think of me as a lover
Who makes you weep.

Who takes your hand
And gives you breath.

Think of me as the tormentor
You long for on cold nights
Turning colder.

As the figure who says adieu
And wants letters and warms kisses too

I am your dream
Your disappointment
Your anguish

Your confession
Your noise
Your bereavement

The stranger you couldn't meet
The Narcissus you always seek

The Narcissist you always were
The lover you couldn't be.