And it’s the way
and it’s the way I can feel you sitting
twitching fingers wrapped around a scratched water bottle
fishing for words I don’t want to hear
throwing them over etched tabletops
only to be met by a sharp response
aimlessly busy hands
or empty laughter.
and it’s the way I can feel you waiting
tapping feet measuring the seconds I didn’t ask you to spend
touching the small of my back
not meant for your fingers
with nails cut too short
a smile greets you but
I don’t let you carry my books.
and it’s the way I can feel you looking
eyes picking up on the flawed skill I left in the brushstrokes
hands holding black cards
to hide nervous mouths
you talk though picking my cards
and can’t find the words
when they’re not typed for you.
and its the way I can feel you standing
bare shoulders smiling at the beating sun burning the water droplets off my back
feet slowing on the smooth rock
hands quickening after the sun leaves
you want to know why I won’t look at you
I’ll leave before I tell you
your mind was all I could handle.
Roman Mirrors
Your face remains unseen
Except through the grim and grainy glass
That’s stiller than water and easy to crack.
I wonder – does it glance at you as you pass
Not looking at the world reflected?
Hung framed on a cracked and faded wall,
We contain the screaming likeness of ourselves
So we can simmer to sleep, to let peace enthrall.
One world is enough it seems,
Without another one to shatter.
Tell me – if we break their world,
Here on this side, will it matter?
Bad luck follows our guilt
As we try to make amends.
The mirrors are always watching
Even if we try to pretend
That we are the only copy of ourselves,
And that we remain unique.
I wonder – what would your reflection
Say to you, if only it could speak?