Sonnet 28: Not the Real You

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How real can I say my love is for you,

Since each day, the past and present diverge?

Is it true that man can love a statue?

On idolatry, I and he converge:

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Memories and sculptures capture the past,

Outside dreams, now can never be before,

So only at shadows does my love grasp,

Reliving battles of some bygone war:

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The you in my heart is a creation,

Just an imprint I made to save your grace;

Nothing but a mental machination,

To save me from heartbreak just to save face:

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If just your picture fills me with such bliss,

Then how much joy from your love have I missed?

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