For Your Eyes Only

Again, this compulsion for the blank page,
my old friend, these old themes,
this feeling, this wrinkling of the brow,
this (contemptuously) journal entry!

Your moonlike, clouded portrait
eludes reflection
in the crooked mirror of my verse,
but you like it in words
and told me from the first,
“Don’t fool yourself.” While,
armed with reverse psychology,
I composed scenarios,
construing deeper meanings,
and still deeper meanings,
brilliant, brooding...