From Poetic Asides-
Today's Prompt: "I want you to write a poem about something missing. It can be about an actual physical object or something you just can't put your finger on (like "love" or "the spirit of Christmas" or something)."
Nothing is real. Tripping about the perimeter,
truth turns malleable, cloaked in black
and white. For regulation I don the self-image
du jour like others put on socks and shoes,
knight before battle with no squire to dress
him. A modern-day minefield of buried passions
waits between inner and outer personalities.
Within rigid boundaries, logic is bible,
the flinty outer edge of existence. Emotions
are a passport I can't afford to carry—in fact,
I believe I left them in my other jeans, the ones
worn all the way through a forgotten childhood.