The mirror looks back with a hatred of puzzlement
And a sinister glare that only succeeds
In prompting the belittlement of all that I am
His eyes stare in what appears to be a daze
Yet still holds its fury, nearly breaking the boundaries
Set by his cool touch
I looked at his frosted hair and saw nothing
But every spark needed to raise the dying heart
Of an empty rose
A yearning of abandonment entranced my senses
His eyes no longer held that daze but
Spilled confidence all over his face
Still his lips quivered with a fear that
Threatened to consume his abandoned touch
Is this a mirror? Which side am I on?
Am I the real or the portrayed
Am I the warm flesh or the cold reflection
I’ve lost myself only to find me, alone,
With my back against a wall
My fingers moist and prepared to snuff the flame
On this solitary candle I hold with white knuckles
Where is the mirror? I know it was here
Have I been so fixated on the man before me
That I have forgotten who I am?
How we look alike yet know nothing of
Each others desires or actions
The fear of blinking wells up inside me and chills my spine
Who will I be when I open my eyes and see
Every single feature of absolutely
No one