you are not the first
to lie to the mirror
your reflection revealing what you are
before you can avert your gaze.
i know your mistake and
she has my eyes
and she is standing where you left her.
she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.
and within the injury is contained the insult
of such simple dreams
composed of affection without artifice
that my heart aches when morning comes.
this inevitable hell
is the one i’ve created
while the blood stains the ground
beneath my feet.
there is so little of me left
i let you take everything.
i am a stupid fool.