Dichotomy

I try to make sense of things.
I think that what I think is sensible,
Though sometimes I can’t always explain the sense in it.
My dreams Elysian to a sankofa not wrongly theorized,
Nutshell sized holocausts hide behind the mirror we call pupils.
Nurtured to full grown M80s behind exercises of free will.
I willed rose petals into steps,
Mountains into heavens,
And heavens into tap water.
Ripples form tidal waves of the thought falsely informed as I continue to try to read your actions.
I am tired.
Your name changes, facial features alter, and still…
I can’t seem to shake you.
It’s like you follow the part of me that luminates your dream and you suck the life away.
The problem is, it’s my life.
My energy you drain with second guessing, doubting, and fearing that you’ll succeed.
You are not just the catalyst,
You are the pivotal moment in my life where even sunshine burns as apposed to shines.
The fire of your passion’s flame is blue…and I..
I am just flesh and blood born on the planet Earth.
I am not Kryptonian,
Beneath these clothes are only under garments.
No red and blue tights, no family crests.
I am built in the perfectly adequate image of a supposed God figure.
But I am not God, we are not deities…
We are only two I’s, not seeing the same vision.
Neither being perfect, you not seeing past what’s in front of your face,
And me, so caught up in what’s to come, I can’t see what’s right in front of me.
Life is not a masquerade, though all the masks and colorful costumes speak otherwise.
I truly believe that you are the mask-less frame in this world full of exaggerated characters.
I want to believe you are who you say you are,
You don’t just aspire to be better, but are proactive in its execution.
Assassinate these notions of that you are not good enough for the happiness that stalks you. 
Pierce your self pity through the heart with the conviction that you are an example that anything is possible through being able to persevere. 
I stare deeply into this mirror…
Not made of reflective glass, paneled in wood.
But flesh…bone and skin…
Soft and uncallused.
You are an image of me past.
I imagine what my past would have been with you..
Wonder if I have traveled too far and passed the place where we would have been able to be…
Wondered if I passed you on my way to figuring out our simple, yet complex dichotomy.

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