Through imperfect eyes they look like candle flames.
Multifaceted, disjointed cotton heads.
Their lattice beams trickle across my arm.
Where is my rhyme tonight?
It is through my fingers,
flying in forced thought
to the one in fields of summer.
He is unaware
and happy that way.
Why maim another's uninterrupted life
with sharp misery?
We are opposites, and no matter what science says,
we do not attract.
I see your lips move
as you read the question.
Mardi Gras beads that slip like rainbows through your hands.
It is joyeux.
But not for me.
Through glass I can imagine,
Because everything is below me,
and I am alone.
The picture beneath my fingertips does not do you justice;
it was captured by a machine, a thing of metal
I too see with lenses.
My perception is altered.
I cannot look into your eyes.
I cannot hear your voice speak.
You are as intangible to me
as I am to you.
You are the unknowing Narcissus,
as I am the wretched Echo.
Your name is tiny shreds amongst the debris
because I put it there.
A silent curse that none can hear
because it is never spoken.
And how long will it last, this tormenting spell?
As long as you chose,
because it is yours.
I will never be freed,
And he will never know,
And they can never guess,
There are so many unsure things, so many what ifs.
Yet there is one thing for sure
that I know