For What Isn’t Possible Occurs Not
I convince myself I’m better off
without her. I convince myself
I don’t want anyone.
I convince myself
I like being alone.
But the desire for companionship
still lies underneath the layers,
merging black and white to gray.
What else can I not convince myself of today?
How else? How else can I feel more the failure,
whether alone or not in this game of love?
Why does either picture offer me no way to win?