mirror, mirror

i could love her if i knew who she is. i look into her eyes but i’m unsure what i see. an image self reflecting as the mirror tells no lie. i cannot see into her eyes, into her soul, her mind. i feel the words bleeding within her, tempting the flame, all consuming as it burns all the same. if i could be her friend, accept her as who she is, hold her hand through the falling out, then i could be me. i would know the look peering back from the mirror, i could hold to memories engulfed in fire, and resistance would be conveyed without understanding of temptation. the beat inside the chest would be true to her breast, it would consume feelings of being less afraid, and acceptance could embrace weary tears longing for the touch and feel of humanity, sympathy, loving , to be and simply exist.

she could be the everything of nothing becoming a lasting impression on the world at play. caution. remember the feel, warm on the hands, longing for the touch, running through the page. being without herself is a game she has forgotten how to play, being with someone else is an ending she cannot remain, longing for the world in a quick embrace behind the eyes of love dancing in her heart asking for the truth and knowing it would hurt at any given moment, she wants to ask the question, know the reality to her situation, be truthful in her quest. she cannot know the answers without stepping into the open, knowing the spotlight is dancing all around her, and all eyes may see the person she has refused to allow all to see.

she can only break free, free of the thoughts, free of the curiousity plaguing her world, free of the beginning that could be a quick demise. freedom can be lost, stripped away, and those questions still remain.

you could tell her who you are, who she is, you could open a door to a lost reality where doubts still runs in her thoughts, who are we?

forget her now because she is only lost and finding her way, reaching out, grasping the thin air, with the aspiration to fly away as she falls away over the edge, wanting to ask the question, wanting to know your thoughts, if somewhere inside you’re plagued with her essence, her world, her scared thoughts of running away, of never knowing if the beginning is here, or the ending lingering close at her heels.

i look into the mirror and i see only her pain,
her longing,
her question,
who are we?