Echo

We are in perfect symmetry;
hiding along the shadows of our
apartment's walls. I watch your
graceful sleuths across the halls,
trying to catch up to you long
enough to where I can say "I
love you" without any sense
of doubt.

My heart belongs to no one,
including myself, and yet you
won it over completely through
your own talent. You must be
a reader of hearts; I must be
the novel you've been waiting
for.

Yet, you slink along your way;
reading when it's convenient,
but straying away if anything
becomes utterly personal. My
profession was too soon; do you
picture me a fool? Staring
at you with hopeful eyes, wondering
if you'll finally give my appendage of
an organ a concrete reason to beat.

We are in perfect symmetry;
always together, yet apart. I
watch you cast illusions to the
bodies living in our complex; they
seem afraid of you. I'm afraid of
you—my heart can never be
complete.

Once the sun fades, you fall
into the carpet; I stay, lingering
where you once shone. My heart
calling out to a phantom.