Stop-gap girl in a red trench coat
Or an accident, or an indulged fantasy
Or that it could have been me, sharing drinks over dinner
But I know that she was more
And to him she's an angel with soft blue eyes.
I would never have been the blonde-haired girl
In the photograph taken through the mirror,
The hedonistic unleashed spirit, or the
Incredible voice and unthreatening mind.
And even though she looks just like me,
She's not me.
And when she held him for just that one night,
She held everything I know I cannot have.
In essence, this is entirely fictional. inspired by facts, not by emotions. i'm experimenting. factual poetry, written in the morning; not irrational emotion-driven verse composed at 2 am.
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