Animus

An obscure little prose You have to build your difference, they say. 
You are divided for love. 
But I don’t know who you are. 
Do you know who I am? 
I can feel your fingers reaching out to me, 
so close to having material form it hurts 
like an unstruck sound in my heart.

You are surely a reflection, 
but when I look for you in the mirror 
the only me there is I. 
I project the idea onto all of my lovers,
trying to understand the shape of you, 
then when they are gone, I retract you
back into the darkness of shadow.

I saw you in the theatre last night. 
Three stages, three shows, three facets of you. 
I danced with each in my dreams.
You had raw, bleeding knees from the crawl;
an attempt to save yourself from fiction, no doubt.
But one tug on my necklace, one cry from within
and I knew the fall was real. 

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