Infatuated (A poem)

The rare poem written on my phone (so as not to disturb the cat on my lap)…

drawn from weaponry
I do not know how to use

My feelings pull back
to avoid the inevitable conflict
between their poles

They cannot stretch that far
without distorting something ephemeral
into permanent disfigurement
flaws mapped onto the body of perfection
to suggest a funhouse mirror

I am the reflection

Now go

The person you see does not exist
but for the layers behind which he hides
for protection

(27 October 2015)