The Illusion that I thought was Real

The skeleton that I adore

I’m paying attention to the flesh but not the core

The illusion of the flesh hiding a bed sore

I should have known a lot more,

The bones rattling in your closet

I’m just a man I’m no prophet

You look at me through hollow eye sockets

But I’m too enamored by the illusion of it,

You have the soul of an executioner

All your life has gone by in a blur

I wonder if feelings of love within you ever stir

When it comes to love you are a saboteur,

I loved a skeleton surrounded by flesh

Between you and I the truth was never meant to mesh

It seemed there was never time to stop and refresh

How much of a man’s soul would you thresh?

Having always to navigate through rough seas

Whenever trying to anticipate in what mood you might be

The skeleton I adore I couldn’t see

For all the cloak and dagger that enveloped me,

Like a scavenger living off whatever you could pick

Like love’s own dedicated heretic

The impostor of a love using me like a joystick

How could I have known without the forensics?

If karma is real maybe you’ll get a chance to feel

What you’ve dished out with such zeal

A skeleton that I thought was real

These days I try to stay on an even keel.