For a man who valued his freedom, he was dangerously close to love
He worked hard to sculpt his heart into a stone
Glued his ego on his left side, so she wouldn’t miss even if she tried
But when he lay on his bed at night, she crept into his dreams,
beside him; she stole his thoughts until they were only hers
Her eyes became the eyes he used to view the world;
he lived only because he channeled her
He no longer had parts that belonged to him.
He went back in, again and again, to the parts that were still his,
maybe if he traced his way back he would finally send her away,
so he could keep his heart only to himself
His time machine had stories to tell, how he still met her, time after time
He kissed her in the lips of others,
the ones he wanted to replace her with,
smelled her in the arms of a stranger beneath his sheets,
saw her smile in the portrait of Mona Lisa,
hummed her song until it became his song, their song.
She was the woman who served him coffee at his favourite restaurant,
the woman who bumped at him in the street corner
Sometimes, she was his cleaning lady,
those days he stayed home to watch her scrub the carpet
Sometimes, she was the poet reciting lines in the city square,
those days she belonged to other admirers as well
There were the men who clapped when he clapped,
those who asked for her number just like he did
The ones whose smiles she returned, others she ignored.
Sometimes, he lost her in a crowded alley but found her on the other side
Other days, there were too many of her when he wanted just one
Sometimes, she ran away scared when he nudged at her arm
Sometimes, she fought hard with pepper spray
On really bad days, he got a black eye or two,
always from the man who held her hand.
There was no escaping her, no matter how hard he tried
Once she came in through that portal called love,
there was no sending her back
To deny her was to deny his own existence because she was him and he was her
For a man who valued his freedom, he had fallen in love.