Make believe you love me: kindly fake it if you can,
act like you really care though you’re cold as snow
that lingers until spring.

There was a time you held me tight but your heart
hid somewhere else locked in a porcelain amulet.
Neatly dressed and coiffed, delicately perfumed,
Jasmine filled the air, gold bracelets jangled,
nylons and high heels skimmed the sidewalk
with flying sparks of Eros, a diamond ring
glinted in the sun, pointed breasts led the way.

You hurried down the street with your English
Cocker Spaniel, but never saw me in a heightened state of rapture
breathing in a trail of your fragrant mystery. Once I saw you trip
and thought it cannot be; perfection must endure unflawed.
You said I had a crying face that never learned to smile.
You were pure energy, born to dance and sing.
Why didn’t you teach me how to fly?

I remain a silhouette upon the wall standing still,
watching you forever.

Milton P. Ehrlich