Will you ever see the real me?
There’s no real me to be seen.
I am a figment of my own imagination.

But still, my actions hurt. How can
what does not exist produce
real results? Results…

Were those results even
real? That night, as you left, you
were crying. Next thing I knew, I cried,

too – in my guts, in my soul, in my heart,
everywhere but in my mind because
in my mind, I didn’t exist.

Will you ever see the real me?
Which me is real is the question I’ll
return to you: this me or that me or another

me I haven’t even met yet? Let me turn
one more question around on you:
Will you ever see the real you?

From my poetry collection Indigo Glow.