Mannequin

I possess a companion, in form, not in soul. A gentleman clad in charm, yet vacant of role. A dallier with hearts, ephemeral as breeze, Entwined with the world, but never with me. His care is a phantom, a shadow, a jest. He lingers in jesting, but fails every test. In the corridors of my quiet despair, He strolls unbothered, unaware. He is fluent in flirtation's dance, But deaf to silence, blind to chance. He never wandered past my smile, Nor paused to see the ache awhile. When I trembled beneath the weight of night, He basked in laughter, basked in light. Not once did he attempt to read The verses in my soul that bleed. I am, to him, a fleeting shade, A name, a whisper, loosely laid. He never sought to know the storm That raged within my fragile form. And now I etch these words in flame, Not to indict, but to reclaim. For though he failed to understand, I still remain unmasked, unplanned.