Whispered Wanderings

What she was to me:
a catcher of dreams,
only she never gave mine back.

Content at first, I was, to let
those special pieces of me
absorb into her web of make-believe.

After all, I didn’t know any better.

A catcher of dreams,
only pretending to love:
psyche voyeur in disguise

behind a mask of caring
that I learned too late
only went skin-deep.

klm
8/13/24