Mirror, Mirror

The night isn’t out the window

or in the wind that  silently slips through

whispering against the closed door

kissing fading pictures of you.

It isn’t in that empty sky

or the lone, empty coffee cup;

nor in the scattered pieces of a lost life

or these empty poems that are never enough.

The night isn’t in the dark, dark;

or the leaking faucet you can clearly hear;

or the silent beating of a disenchanted heart

which like a ticking clock is so severe.

The night is in my brittle smile

on poisonous lips painted red

whispering lies that keep me alive

even though our love is dead.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. The Priestess of Q
    Feb 10, 2013 @ 20:19:38


    The night is in my faded eyes,
    painting everything I can see
    in different shades of black,
    the night is forever in me.

    You. Take me away. Now. 😦

    Reply

  2. Mave
    Feb 10, 2013 @ 20:23:51

    A truly romantic appeal like that makes my heart hurt.

    Reply

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