Here's my first poem - " The pressed flower "

Drawn in by the myrrh,
flying in phantasm,
What was real,
What was not,
Eye in eye,
Was it drawn out only for one?
Was it civility, or was it affection,
Will she ever know?
Demure but only cloaks the deluge,
Silence was but a hundred words,
Will he ever know?

PC- Google images.