Bond

It's hard to characterize,
too easy to fantasize,
about the bond that cannot break,
the solace that awaits.

Its nature is vague;
from only a similar sparkle
comes cavernous needs and
feelings that pry on
your lens of reality,
your rock and your folly,
a space far too same with too much pain
to be truely a phase.

Till the lens shatters,
and as the fragments glitter,
with monotonous ease
the feelings that don't cease
invade your senses.

And that sparkle remains in the shattered heap,
a siren's call to your name.
Yet it can't be true,
too insane to be so,
the thought that that your
face may find home with another.