annarino writes

The lonely artist is not a fiction but a prediction

of the lonely lover

awaiting to discover

who we are.

I do not know you, do I ?

How could I when I do not yet know myself?

I see you. I hear you.

You are there.

In your eyes I see myself

as a reflection,

with it inherent loss of my full energy

and being, lost in your gaze.

This leaves me lost and dazed.

All you give me is a reflection of myself.

It is not enough.

It lacks your energy. Your being

you keep for yourself,

leaving me alone, grasping air.

Perhaps this is why we choose

to love only those who appear

most like our selves.

Disenchanted when all we are

able to embrace

is the reflected self.

Give me your true self.

Give me your art

not something set apart,

but different from me.

This is the value of diversity.

This love beyond self

only comes when we see

more than our own reflection,

are given new energy,

the energy of you.

Fear keeps us apart.

We fear knowing who we are.

We fear knowing who you are.

Fearing if we love you,

we will only see

our lessened selves.