Sadness has passed and thoughts of new spiral and blast.
Can two share this one off chance? Honour a jaded dream?
A photo of my left side, climbing a mountain.
You on a track day, collecting a trophy.
There you are! My English rose.
I am mighty and brave with ‘good sense of humour’.
You want to be with the white knight for endless nights.
You’ve seen mine and I’ve seen yours.
Flicker of fantasy how life could be:
Hand in hand, strolling.
Heads on a pillow, gazing.
Two busy cooks, spicing.
Searching your eyes on my retina display,
My finger hovering over the mouse.
Then the thought of how things have been.
How to start to end the ending of the ends before?
The finger presses.
Hello trophy girl
Hello mountain man
Five minutes to go. What to say? How to smile?
Breath out, forget the past,
Fallen stars and buckled walls.
Breath in. Just be myself.
And there you are. Taller than your picture
But real—your eyes are blue
And studying me.
What do they see?
I stumble on “Hello”, but you’re still smiling.
The talk is sprint like fast and we are walking—
Light hearted jumble about anything, everything,
And laughter where we can.
We’ve finished walking, but we’re still talking.
I don’t want to go, don’t want you to go.
A quick drink?
Subjects new, something blue.
“I thought I could make it work!”
Somehow we’re still laughing.
I don’t want to go. Don’t want you to want to go?
Our glasses are empty, I’m half full.
Something to eat?
We’re not really hungry, but it’s just more fun
The menu is words and numbers. I have to show, I wear glasses.
The face for other faces has gone,
Melted masks and forgotten needs.
Wait! One last check, what did I mean by…?
But I can’t remember what I said.
So it’s just me doing me.
Telling you secrets, showing you hurts.
We really must go!
The waitress is waiting.
No kisses! Just a peck. But it’s OK:
There’s going to be a next time
For you to be you
And me to be me.
By Luke McEwen
Well, this poem is self-explanatory! But I wanted to highlight and contrast how we present of ourselves on our online profile, compared to that which we present when we first meet. And then the final representation, hopefully well before the end of the date, when we are relaxed and unguarded. Is this our true self?