Saturday, August 10

The Mirror

It was like the night sky,
had drawn itself into the form of her iris's.
With the stars melting together,
and pooling into fractured silver,
taking on the visage of her translucent eyes.
 Her chocolate hair,
spilling across the floor,
lay rich and dull around her.
The pallor of her skin,
like the faded image of a forgotten apparition-
But then again,
isn't that what she had become?
In death she was,
a jilted bride finally divested of her gown.
How empty,
she looked now,
dark sheets of blood leaking from her chest.
The cadence epitomizing her posture,
had no more notes to play.
What must she have thought,
moments before the swelling of her palpitating organ,
embodied her to split open the rupture
leading to her own heart.
How she must have cried,
as the gore gushed from her pent up wound.
I wonder if she felt afraid.
Her trembling legs,
breaking under her.
I wonder if she thought it was worth it.
As her lips quivered a final cry.
When the blood ebbed from the abatment of her heart,
and when her eyes clothed themselves in milky glass,
I wonder if her final thoughts
screamed that no one would notice her silence.
That the people who feigned to love her,
would fade into the blackness,
and forget her.

The girl rises to her feet,
chocolate hair cascading down her back.
The mirror in front of her is still.
Unaware of the world it has just conjured.
Turning away,
midnight blue eyes swimming in tears,
her lips the quiver words:
"I can't leave yet."


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