To have kissed, and known that kiss is love
Is to have seen the reflection of what was lost
When you learned to trust and fight for life
Reappear to bless the wreckage,
But from the eye of your beloved,
Is to feel the knowledge of dejection, and more
so, love.
In both we shatter the glass that reflects us
And drink our reflections in the wine
Of either the wind’s or her caress.
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