Some days I'd carve a mirror of my own.
There are such days,
Where I might render a judgment,
Just so I could instill my heart cold.
The intentional shivers I conjure myself to,
To put a pause on my marbling of others,
And mar on myself instead.
Oh, Apparition that condescends in a distance,
A reminiscent yet elusive doppelganger of my sort,
Slumberously mirroring my every gesture and emotion of thought,
Yet slipping out a totally different whisper altogether.
Like a soft spoken murmur drooling out,
Sung from and out of me,
But redirected at me and for me.
An asking to listen more while fidgeting less,
As a pumpkin slowly nestles on my lap.
Strange that it'd bewilder me,
The sight of a bittersweet pumpkin.
Castrated calmly beneath my fingers,
Yet warming up in an oven of its own.
Copyright © Poet Lazey | Year Posted 2016
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