Fantasy-image-fantasy-36081332-800-678The looking glass is razor thin
Flimsy as a nightgown in July
Showing through in places
Like the beginning of love
Twisted up in circumstance
And the constant pining for more
These paltry excuses
Piling up in boxes on the floor
Slid into these mere shadows
As comfortable as warm bodies
Pressed together on a bed
She studies her reflection from afar
The piercing light cast across
Blinding her before it heals
Her nakedness more stark than real
Her vulnerability cold like ice
Like the goosebumps that spread
Ghostly across the expanse of her skin
The sweat magnified
In the glow cast by the glass
Imitated in the echoes of consequence
That fade before rising
A crescendo in the making
Pressing her cheek
Against the cool surface
Which ripples like a pool
Accepting her offering
Like easing into a bath
As the glass shatters
Covering her in bloody shards
And screams that run red
Before dying amidst the embers.


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