It’s a funny feeling, indeed

To miss that which you never had

To wave it goodbye and wish it well for the future

It is funnier, even, to have created the fallacy of an unwanted truth

To have twisted and coiled my way up in a story

One that none had ever wanted to hear, not least myself

Though, I made it mine, in spite of desire

I delved into a sacred place as though I had a right to be there

I abused myself as though I had no right to care

I held tight and fast to the notion of it

It being a love, of sorts

It being the one thing truly lost to me

Yet craved, selfishly

Abusing it until the coil twisted back on itself and all that was left was me

All that ever was there was me, truthfully

For that moment I wondered

I pondered on it

It being that love, of sorts

I poked my head out to play and danced with it a while

Toyed with it

Delighted in it

But never in it, you see

In itself, it is lost to me

I cannot connect with that which is not there

But I can create

I rejoice in the weaving of the story of it

Believing it to be true

Believing it to be me

A heart that beats a regular rhythm

Where others may come and step to the drum

They see the me of my design

We dance and we sing

We feel a lifelong knowing despite there being nothing to know

The untruth engulfs for a while, at least

Til the slap of the coil reminds of me

Just me

How funny, indeed