I fondly remember,
every libidinous mirror,
that fondled me
with sensuous  abandon.

the reflections I approved
were not strictly
my exactitude;
most erogenous,
that gave me sleepless nights-
of salacious cravings.

I made mirrors proud
by getting represented in them,
the way I loved me, myself
that made them glad.

I give the mirrors
more pleasure,
than the images that I love-
send me in to raptures.

I abhor ****** liaison with mirrors,
though I love the way they pamper.
I've no love left for others,
when a mirror catches me unawares,
in such lasciviousness-
that I love in myself,
it would send shivers through the mirrors,
yes,  I am not unaware,
but that secret is theirs.