Poem -
MIRRORS
Our mirrors are not delicate
They are knives
coldly slicing through my joints
They are gray
just like my dreams
You see nothing in their eyes but tears
On their faces
our images sway
like bereaved brides.
That is why you see my heart tremble
not from love
but from this darkness
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Comments
Very dark, quite sad, and superbly
written.Ā
BernadeteĀ