The mirror of brief oblivion
Is easy enough to find.
A counterfeit, cracked reflection;
An embrace of a different kind.
Lips that still tell lies, but now,
Because I want them to.
An hours escape, and does it matter
That it isn't really you?
And Love? Well, what of that?
The same suspended disbeliefs,
But hampered by a deep-hulled heart,
Threading treacherous, hidden reefs.
This way, at least, I know my heart is safe,
For in these arms it can never chafe.
