Who is he in front of me?
The idea of love oozing
through my pores, pouring through
weathered shingles in the roof, no one
captures skeletons buried beneath bodies
of self-doubt in my closet.
Who is he who haunts me in front of me?
Tears behind my eyes shield an
abstract discombobulated, dredged silhouette
of lovers with temptatious grins
fashioned with lips of benevolence.
Not the concept of love burning bridges
until it’s over, but forever.
Who is he in front of me?
What is it he wants of me?
The man in love with a smile
washed across his face
bears my likeness,
he demands nothing of me.
The man in front of me
isn’t afraid of me.
The man in front of me
is me.

(© 2022 AC)

(Wattpad, Amazon Kindle, Spillwords, The Writers Club)