Mirrors


I look in the mirror, hands
planted on the ceramic sink. Cold
is the surface, taunting is the blade;
once before it had been used – scent

Of blood stays; deep the incision was not
deep was the ocean of emotion. I wish
the tide of depression would recede – eyes
wander, hands tremble; I see my face,

A freckle on the bridge – Iris, as the sky,
hair – brown grass – lips quaint yet full. One
last look at the blade; to pupils I gaze, black
holes emblazoned with Desire. Soul – seen.

After Eternity passes I realize who I am – a
reflection of eternity, I have passed, I have been;
waves of happiness course through me, I understand;
that which I look at, a mirror – mirrorly a mirror.

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