The Illusion


I had mistaken authenticity
in your soul
for the way your words
played the tune of my fairytales--
waltzing on my heartstrings,
as if you were playing the keys of a piano--
but only to attain
the vulnerability of my body.
As if it were
your desperate plea to see
my soul naked and defenseless:
to piece through the wreckage of me
in order for yours to feel whole.
Sometimes it baffles me
how humans can live so long
with their bodies
never meeting their minds,
their minds
never knowing their hearts,
their hearts
never loving their souls.

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