, , , ,

She could only ever mimic
Hearing his words
Repeating them back
Never having her own.

He could only stare into the pool
Seeing nothing but himself.
He was rooted to his features
Staring further into himself.

She longed to call his name.
To speak it, have t on her lips,
To cry it out, scream it.
Have the comfort only it could bring.

He longed for the love
Of his own reflection.
Wanting to be adored,
Wasting away for adulation.

She adored him as he wished,
But being so consumed, he could not see.
She wasted away with him,
Watching limbs turn to roots.

Slowly he perished.
Permanently rooted to the spot.
If he had looked away,
She would have saved him.

Echo came to him then.
Plucked the flower he’d become.
She pressed it to her lips and turned,
Going to her own end.

If only he had known.
She laid in a hollow, holding the flower close.
The wind carried her away,
To least repeat the voices of others.