It Was Only Ever a Glimpse
A glimpse at the mirror shows clearly
My blurry reflection.
Too many lessons have been tearing
At these senses.
The phase of glorified flesh ended,
Yet I never knew when it commenced,
Or where it headed.
It's grown nearly impossible to see the eyes.
I've always had trouble establishing “me.”
Lo and behold, what a surprise
That I've continued disfiguring.
Tormented and rejected by the lust of dreams,
My hate has drawn to sleep.
Who wants to awaken smothering
An impossible fantasy?
A clock keeps ticking,
And with this hangs fate.
They make it sound endearing,
But it's hard accepting you'll be late.
Suppose it fair to say
How confused I remained,
But at my dying day,
I was a different being.
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Comments about this poem (It Was Only Ever a Glimpse by Edwin Cordero )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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