Under my breast

My mind takes me on tales
Mythological tragedies that will never be recited
Even in my fantasies love doesn’t bend my way
I love to make believe the martyr
Its common knowledge I love myself too much for sacrifice
I love me more than I love him
I love the memory of him
He doesn’t look a thing like Youssef
Still hes got the touch of an angel
A beautiful stranger
Strangers, we once shared an intimate space
Undefined by literal minded wordiness
Maybe because it never truly existed
Or possibly in its simplicity it was too overwhelming for description
It just was but isn't
Except in me, in my imagination every love is immortal
Every touch eternal
Every word forever swept up in the wind only to return again
If only everything could be saved this way
We wouldn't be lost
Our identities encapsulated we would never feel as outsiders do
Lonely loners with no connection to yesterday and struggling to capture today
All the while never planning for tomorrow and then dooming the past present and future to be unwritten
Truly non existent
Who witnessed it, felt it, lived it
Where are you documentations
Where are you battle scars?
No battle scars? For shame, you have not lived
Born and died in a instant
NAY, not even born
Even babies have the trauma of being born
You died
Shortly after conception
These things happen, don't be disappointed
So much promise, in reality never had a chance
Reality never gave me a chance either
So I live in other ways
Explore my desires by other means
I won’t be another fatality of no identity
I lived damned
Look into my eyes, touch my skin, and listen to my heart
Hear how it beats,
With out rhythm