House of Mirrors

Feeling for you in my sleep, dream reminds me I like the sound of breath. Rotating into soft snow storms; skin so cold, you’d wonder if the girl was made of glass. Fogged with recollections, then falling into floorboards. This isn’t the first time i’ve strayed into the frost. Gratifying my thirst with lukewarm waters, feeling it drip down my chin like sultry showers. Etching reflections into my skin, no longer feels sheltered. And the wind chimes are waiting for the girl to come home, and climb in her window alone. Where she stares in the glass at each imperfection, then shatters every mirror as a last retaliation. She falls into bed with me, feeling at home; and i, surprised, no longer feel alone.