The Imposter

You are not the one my soul yearns for, although the resemblance is uncanny.

I noticed the emptiness in your soul as you try to take pieces of yourself to complete me.

You're not a builder, so why even try when my walls are steel, and yours are like papier-mache?

An imposter whose affection temporarily feeds the emptiness inside me like a beggar who makes a meal from scraps.

The virtues you have magnify my vices and remind me of how cruel the world has made me.

I do not despise you nor wish you ill, but I cannot give you a love that does not belong to you lest its owner seek it.

I won't send you away nor beg you to stay, but would you keep this seat warm while we wait for true love?

The Bitter Poet