To Be Real


Photo Credit: bittersweetvenom at

I just wish you knew me,
the small things
and big things,
the pieces
and places
and people
that make me.

We, us, you, me–
these identities flutter,
undulate between then and now,
the spaces we flow,
our fluidity widening,
burying us
and letting us breathe.

How can you know me now?
The me you made,
the me I crafted,
these images
that are undefined,
plastered to walls
and faces of those
who look but do not see?

I want you to know me,
but I need to learn myself,
mold myself,
or at least try to understand myself
because I don’t seem real,
yet I feel too real
to be pretend.

We are figments
of who we hope we are,
never really knowing the truth.

And all I’ve ever wanted was the truth.




6 thoughts on “To Be Real

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