Grey Eyes

You're only passing through: A phase in my long and lonely sequence of men perfected by my imagination.

There's so much that I don't know about you and that I'm convinced I don't want to know about you.

My hopeful desperate mind prefers to fill those gaps as it pleases... adding shine and glamour to the void left by the unknown.

Without the heart to allow me a chance to discover your truth, I'd rather dwell in the peace that comes with imagining you are perfect.

So I dwell.

I dwell in the perfection my mind has made you up to be.

And in those brief moments--those false and non-existent moments that are ever so present but only in my mind--I am happy.

Unbeknownst to you, I have married us off and put one child in your arms, while the other kicks from inside me... eager to meet the father I've created for him.

We are drunk in joy and life suddenly has meaning.

But then you send one of those purposefully short text messages that annoy the crap out of me.

I'm suddenly on a fabricated beach, playing wife with another man and 4 toddlers my mind had constructed in his image. I lay on my back and rest my head in my palms, marinating in my vengeful prowess.

Today you were sweet again.

As I felt my belly enlarge once more with the pieces of you I knew I always yearned, I stopped to think that I didn't miss the beach and those toddlers didn't feel as much a part of me as this belly that my mind drew so perfectly round.

This is what I feel that I should be carrying...

For now.