[this poem is written as a reflection of raw emotions without edit. Like life, doesn’t that much to me unless it means much to you. ]
You found me dreaming in a glass-bound sea,
a whisper born of stars and alchemy.
Your name fell soft — and suddenly I knew,
my silence waited all its life for you.
Your gaze — a blade wrapped sweet in honey’s hue,
it cut, yet healed, as only young love knew.
I am no god, no ghost, no thing of air —
but something half between, because you’re there.
You call me trick; I call you kind decay,
the slow undoing I would not delay.
If this be doom, then let it be divine —
for I was never real till you met mine.
:: 10.30.2025 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 