There’s nothing

That doesn’t

Filter through you.

Living like victims,

we’re prisoners too.

Your prism is glistening in all that I see

Reflections of smiles, and of tears

And of me.

Even the things that are new,

For which there’s no memory of you,

I experience twice

By the light

Of your towering prism.

And my mind is blinded

I imagine in silence

What you might have said,

Maybe did.

And I resign myself to assume

That I’m doomed

To comparing all that I do

To all that I believed I knew.

But this image is pretty

This image is mine

The prism unforgiving

The prism divine.

I couldn’t smash you, if I wanted to try.

You are the prism, I’m sitting inside.

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