In the depths of night, a scent of blood hangs heavy in the air,
as if the clouds themselves had wept pools of blood, for their
sorrows in the form of rain.

I gently brushed away tears from a shard of ancient, stained
glass, lost in contemplation of the countless destinations we
could have been, our adventures stretching infinitely like the
vastness of the sea.

Yet, amidst the myriad of dreams we dared to envision,
the glass whispered a profound truth:

We are only as broken as the reflections we allow our
external mirrors to see.

Infinity stares back from the dark recess of obscurity
The eye that I see staring in the mirror
A faded juxtaposition reversing my faded reflection
So that I might see the me everyone else sees

Aghast at my ghastly facade
Hands trembling at the realization that this was a hallucination
And reality was just a blink away
The slow drip from the nasal cavity nauseated me
Brown bile seeped from my lips
Dribbling down my chin as two snakes tangled
Slowly suffocating me as they began constricting
Causing blood vessels in my eyes to pop from the pressure

Floating black dots consumed my sight
Tarantulas creeped and crawled upon my skin
Fine hairs tickling the tip of my nose
As it began to melt under each curved claw
Dripping in time with the sickening drops
As I gasped for air in a panicked frenzy
Vigorously washing with water in a vain attempt
To rest reality back from the grips of delusion

This time the mirror stared back
Silence... Utter silence... Then sorrow...
Crimson tears streaked down my face at the realization
That I had somehow become lost along the way of life
I had lost the I in me, deluded to the point I blinded myself to see
Anything to attempt to cover up the pain
Of being less than that man in the mirror I see
Knowing his heart has a limitless potential
That I have caused to clot in hard callouses
Self sabotaging any hope I have to get away from it all
And achieve anything of worth

I scream at myself
Wavering between laughing and sobbing
The glass shatters

There I am in pieces
Each shard a mime of a different time
Razor sharp portals

To who I was
And the fear and loathing
That led me to where I am

Beautiful ugly reflection –
slipping into the depths of your heartbreak;
Do you still tally your breaths – gasping for air!
At times, we drift so far from the warmth of home,
a cosmic wonder; yet the cosmos cradles the remnants
of extinguished stars.

Would you light a cigarette – to mask the fierce truths
of your spirit; those weary hands still possess a gentle
caress.

A handshake fraught with shaky bonds – bond to your
insecurities; anchoring you in a realm of perpetual self-doubt.

                   You are worth infinitely more, my mirrored self.

I feel most beautiful when my hair is haphazardly thrown into a French barrette, my pajamas are loose, and my scented lotion on.

I couldn't tell how much of my usual actions tonight of quickly twisting my hair, or picking which scent to wear, were influenced by my love for me or you.

I gently pulled the frontmost curls from the barrette and clasped on a delicate necklace in my vanity mirror. I selected the small, expensive bottle from my collection to melt into my hands, wrists, and clavicles.

I would never leave the house without this evening routine, and even though we're only crossing the street, I indulge in my reflection. It's the most I've loved myself all week.

I don't look to see if the lashes are perfectly parted, if the hair is tamed, if anything. I just take in my sights and scents,

and I secretly hope you do too.

It must take hate to love me.
Despise me with passion.
Loathe me into proving,
That all I think is wrong.

If hating me is what it takes,
To motivate the change,
To be who You want to be,
I’ll be the villain for you.

If my tears will bring you joy,
you need my blood to bathe.
Take me in your arms,
And gently slice my neck.

Struck by stone, now the mirror cracked,
It's beauty, now it lacked.
Not a single belle admired her face,
Nor did the striking adorn his grace.

For now, it was broken,
Lost the praise token.
The outer charm was no longer,
But being forgotten, was the stronger.

Then, lights suddenly shone,
And emerged the grit, unknown.
As the inner strength was intact,
Even the cracked one could reflect.

The belle glowed once more,
And the striking again adorned its core.
The mirror's strength is to reflect,
That no damage could affect.

The outer cracks would be healed,
They are needed for the truth to be revealed.
What is outside, will soon be eliminated,
But inner strength is always celebrated.