What a cruel thing it was
to create him in the image
of her own desires
stealing his mannerism
making them sacred
shaping him into all she craved him to be
She erased his fault lines
swallowed his indifference with a shrug
Despite each action
and words static with contention
he never slilenced his declarations
of who he truly was
She filtered his being
through her own longing and made him
more god than man
He never saw her….
only what she lacked
leaving her behind
unnoticed
to chase the dark butterflies he conjured
Secretly in those dark places
even she dare not look within herself
she hated him
He had played his part
meretricious as he bathed in her admiration
for who does not want to be adored
She failed to see
she had created her own agony
as she awoke to see the man
underneath the façade
the illusions
of her own making
She had only herself
to blame….
© Katherine Wyatt 2o14
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