The Stranger in the Mirror
My reflection waited,
eyes sharp and focused,
watching me move
with perfect precision.
It blinked once early,
a moment before I did,
tilting its head slowly
with strange intent.
The smile came late,
crooked and cold,
curling at the edges
like it knew something.
I stepped back quickly,
but it stayed close,
its hands pressed softly
against the other side.
The glass chilled deeply,
cold enough to sting,
as though the mirror
was thinning.
My reflection whispered
without sound or breath,
lips shaping words
I didn’t recognise.
Its eyes brightened softly,
hungry and waiting,
tracking every breath
I didn’t mean to take.
And when I turned away,
its grin widened slowly,
as though it finally learned
how to live without me.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts7 days ago in Longevity
Comments (1)
This seems like a poem that gives us a glimpse into our futures. Good job.