Face

Mirror like, staring at the lens
is a face from the otherside.
First photo of the source of
Those long strings of beautiful
Sentences.  Caring words from
A disembodied body on the
Other side of the world.

You are nothing like what I
Thought.  You’re fat.
But then it’s a camera, that’s
What it does.  Fattens your
White porcelain face.

The person who chatted to
Me at three AM is now
Personified in a photo,
A couple of years old.  Your hair
Is slightly darker now, after all
You’re at college and you’ve
grown up.
But you’re still a madam.

We should meet up sometime
I say, trying to stoke cinders.
But you pull down your
Metaphoric pants, and
Metaphorically pee over
crude attempts to see you
And get laid.

I’m not ready, I’m shy,
I’m busy, I have coursework
I’m visiting a range of
Fictitious relatives. I’m
Washing my hair. Twice.
It’s too far, it’s too expensive
I hate trains, I can still
See you without meeting you.
I’m holding your strings.
I’m in control.

I wonder if your
Boyfried knows,
After all, Facebook
is readable by everyone.