PROSE POEM narcissus
This glass,this mirror flat I see before me ,day by day The reflection of what others see of me.I see in one ,this dimension can never 'live' to be touched.I reach out but it I cannot feel.My prints I leave,but still cannot breach this barrier between me and me.Un-tactile unsatisfactory,ephemeral it disappears as I move away,for I can no longer stay.In my pose face to face,lacking grace
lest this narcissism grows.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2020
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