Mr. Deadeyes

It doesn’t bother me much, after all,
I ain’t been sleeping since you left.
So what if every picture my dreams draw
Becomes our dearest shared past?
It doesn’t look like much just yet,
I’ve been working on it for a month;
It’s hard to purchase a slab of jet
Even if it’s for a pedestal.

I digress, I’m aware,
I’ve been chatting for weeks
To this page with the pen in my hand,
I mean, everything everywhere
Just to keep clear
From the glare coming from the pane.

This doesn’t answer my questions at all,
What’s the point of leaving me unread?
I guess it does in a Sartre-like trope,
Alright then, now I’m also mad.
You have to look at it a few steps back,
Ain’t it cool how you appear to laugh?
I used a picture you took at Bob’s,
I can’t seem to have one with us both.

I confess, I’m aware
This was never meant to be
A song or whatever this diversion’s become.
I just needed an hour
Away from the mirror,
The guy that’s in there creeps me out…

I’m hidden, don’t worry,
This cotton cloak works just great,
I’ll keep quiet, I’m sorry,
I’ll keep farming misery and hate
As you wander just fine,
I’m your portrait of Gray,
While I’m Mr. Deadyes,
You live life and love as you may.