His shadow is the same

his breath, his mane

of hair that tickles my chin

is the same as when

he had come to me the night before

that heavy rain when I might take him in a breath

in that scent of sweet deceit.

That beautiful lie where truth won't meet.

A beautiful disaster where I admit defeat

and touch the mirror

watching the ripples form into a man I no longer recognize

but no longer despise.