Idealization & Discard

I am so sad

looking at pictures,

scenes, supercuts,

splices of lives

I never lived.

.

Real memories,

presented in a synopses

of the best moments

of someone's life.

.

We all know

the false self

we present

to the world,

.

is not the self

we present

to eachother

in the bedroom

of our lives.

.

--

.

So much of what I know,

people tell me is not valid

in their reality.

.

There is nothing

I can say,

or do, to justify

my humanity,

.

or my right to be treated

with dignity in their world.

.

At some point

in my life

reality became subjective.

.

I hear professionals,

therapists say,

"I respect your belief."

"I respect your truth."

.

I the poet always reply,

"There is only one truth,

we may not know what it is,

but it's still true."

.

Even then

it is their world,

I only live in it.

.

--

.

I think of the few moments

we had together,

and it was all

smokescreen.

.

Nothing about it

mean't anything.

.

But it meant something

to me.

Maybe you were

my favorite.

.

Maybe this is just

an idealization. Maybe

.

I am just a piecemeal

recreation of the bits

of identity around me.

.

The flotsam and jetsam

of other people's lives.

.

A manifestation of parts

of myself

I see in you,

.

or vice versa.

.

What I've learned,

is the feeling justifies

itself. Maybe

.

I didn't really love you.

.

But I did love

our moments

together.

.

Sad but beautiful

moments.

.

I have to live.

I have to put this out

of my memory.

.

So I can see

the future.

.

the vision was a slim

possibility

to be sure,

.

but was a chance.

and with the death

of the chance,

.

the discard is complete.