Pareidolia

He counts the days since he last saw you
And he tells himself
Someday he will walk you all the way home
In his attic he keeps a little glass jar
Where he collects all the butterflies he felt for you
So you can someday set them free
Often in darkness when he sits all alone
He sees you like a pareidolia staring at him
It creeps him out just as it would creep you
Once in a while he peels himself off like a pomegranate
To see what is wrong inside of him
Most days he blames you for his sorrows
Other days you are honey waffle cream
On the day half way through the month of August
He sends you weird poetry to remind himself
That you and him were born on the same day
As if it really means something
He counts the days for a future…