1.1 The Reflection

One Day in my youth,
I saw a portrait of myself.
Almost like a reflection,
My face was looking up.
Adorned in a wedding gown.
The expression at the time, 
was of hopeless confinement.

I was trapped in that picture,
I looked out into the world,
Unknown, waiting to be explored.
A month later, I informed my partner,
Of my decision not to proceed with the wedding.

Almost a decade later, 
I am staring at another portrait,
Hand drawn by a famous artist in Nha Trang.
Yet, it is not a portrait of myself,
But of a man I believe to love,
The picture I gave the artist,
Was of an exceptionally handsome man,
With kind eyes and perfect features.

The Portrait drawing, however,
Was of a sly man with shady features.
The left side of his face was thug-like,
It over takes the right side,
Almost completely.
The right side, Hiding behind,
With child-like eyes.

I was puzzled when I saw the portrait.
Slightly disappointed.
And as the picture predicted,
Nothing has yet to materialize between us.