mirror in the room

brought from the market, one of a kind

previously shattered, fixed, and now mine

draped in a blanket, I pulled and it begun

a beautiful mirror, no longer wrapped in plum

stood tall and yet tarnished

apologetically lethargic

the room smelled old and the air had a taste

yet nothing was wrong it was in nature’s state

like the world was on fire, the light caught on the brass

the candle flickered twice, and slept calmly at last

night inhaled a deep breath over my face

after a second - barely glowing - I was met just by my gaze

now I could only tell my heart to continue its beat

for my senses were exhausted

and here I began to think

never to be viewed again in this way or in this sense

how uncommon it is

for me to feel the dread

who has long since been dead

scared to look, scared to see

all of the things a reflection reveals you to be

.

because if it isn’t the greatest love I’ve ever known;

then it’s a name I won’t recognize

carved into a headstone.

and if it isn’t the most striking beauty I’ve ever seen;

it’s the gray in the rain in the city

lacking green.

if it isn’t a girl who’s loved the oceans in her tears;

then it’s a whale searching for the surface,

one more breath

to settle the years.

if it isn’t a warm home and a circle of loving friends;

then it’s distorted laughter

and every bittersweet end.

and if it isn’t a child, glowing and sin-free,

then it can only be one other thing;

how it was meant to be

.

mirror in the room

and eyes that

cannot see -

I am consumed by what

may

or may not

make me,

me.