my other heart

My other heart tells me no, when my true heart would say yes. Every journey takes her further away from me, as each moment that passes brings her closer. I'd forgotten her, she being no more, and yet more, than a memory or a silverdark word, a letter in my heart unopened. The nervous light of Sunday hangs around forest-green leaves, waiting, falling, fading, weaving another pattern before my eyes.

I imagine, as I imagine us
Each time more stylized, more lovingly
Detailed, that I am not myself
but someone I might have been.