Reflections

 
I do not circle ‘round the sun.
I’ll never know the moonlit glow.
And I am not the only one
Who has no other place to go.

So perfectly flawed and broken,
Imperfect gods have spoken
Of the ache our time has been,
And the ruin of reflections in between.

How do I know without dying—
The loss that comes to life again?
How do I show without crying—
Show you this heart in pain?

How do I feel what was never mine to feel?
The sickness dwells as sure as love is real.
There is a trace of oceans between the seams
Of the starless denial and the star-writ dreams.

So perfectly flawed and broken,
Imperfect gods have spoken
Of the ache our time has been,
And the ruin of reflections between.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle