Parallax

My memory has been good to you since you left.

It's taken you and buffed your sharp edges,

polished up your one-liners,

and edited your conversations for wit and sensitivity.

It's rationalized your selfishness and rather quick temper,

forgotten how you hated sharing a single bed,

inconvenience in general.

It even injects feeling into your empty phrases.

You'd love my memory of you.

So I wouldn't advise you to come back.

You could never compete with this memory of mine.

Even your eyes aren't that blue.