Vexing Time's Essence

*Note: I took a bit of liberty with the word vast, for the mood and sense of this poem I wanted the word to rhyme and feel like the word waste without it being so. This style of poem is called a Villanelle, it is difficult to work with because of the refrains.*

Ever ebbing and flowing their thoughts were vaste.
Beating hearts, wayward souls, seeking what they may,
while both their suns rose in a different place.
Always feeling their coitus shared the same space,
knowing torrid kisses with never a say.
Ever ebbing and flowing their thoughts were vaste.
As one awoke to greet the coming day’s face,
the other’s world grew dark and sleep beckon sway.
For both of their suns were in a different place.
She woke then, missing lost hours without trace,
while the one was busy far into their day.
Ever ebbing and flowing their thoughts were vaste.
They wished such foul things as clocks could be erased,
vexing time’s essence, suffering as its prey.
For both their suns are in a different place.
Too many miles stretched their bodies resolve and pace,
aching hearts snuggles close as gentle souls lay.
Ever ebbing and flowing their thoughts were vaste,
while both their suns set in a different place.