Real

“Real”

I know you’re weeping, naked by the flame.
I dreamed that I would live forever
With the scent of flowers, together
With a perfume of something I dare not name.

I thought I was a lie—a tale never told
Until you spoke to me in such a tone
That said I knew I was not alone
Inside your mind where it’s always cold.

There is ice in my thoughts, it aches
But here by the fire with your pretty eyes
I know the phantom tells me lies.
When your form stirs, the voice awakes.

And I see things in my eternal cell.
I watch from shadows you do not see,
Sometimes I think you would love me
In ways I cannot tell.

Your spirit is warm, the lights surround you—
But it’s so dark where I lie:
A candle in shades that will not die
With a flame of an alien hue.

I envy that light, for I am shadows—
I know I am a lie that you conjure
Here in my quiet sepulcher
Where our hearts are but echoes.

A bouquet you carry amid your tears,
This you lay in your fire that will not die,
As you say goodbye
To one you crafted in former years.

You tell me to live for these few hours
Alas! that I could rise from my sleep,
And in joy I grasp you and weep
To see you burn such flowers.

I dream that you never created me,
So I may be as much a dream as death,
To rise with a mortal breath
And become as real as thee.

© 2022 Marten Hoyle