White Nights, White Lies

I will not dream of you tonight. I play
records that you have never heard; I say
words you never spoke. I walk with men
who never knew your name. I turn again
to thoughts you could not bear; I build a place
where none may live who ever saw your face.

I will not dream of you tonight; instead
I touch the space where once you lay. My head
is filled with all that you are not. My soul
is aching with your absence, and this hole
that you once filled now fills my life. The blue
of cloudless sky above still covers you.

I will not dream of you tonight. My mind
will search for life without you; it will find
a world too touched by you. And did those hands
spare anything but me? Have all the lands
I walk in felt your longed-for touch? Tonight
no thoughts of you will bring no morning light.

I will not dream of you tonight. I lie
awake beneath the cruel mirrored sky
that much reflect us both. No dreams will weigh
upon my eyes, for now another day
without you rises pale-faced and grey.
"I will not dream of you tonight," I say.

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