Sel-Portrait
The last cigarette in the box
Its ash falling slowly towards the ground
In its spiral decent, the flicker
Light slowly fading out
Unbeknownst to me, the bloom is still full
I have been locked away placed behind a mirror
I cannot see out
Only the reflection within
How did I awake in such a place?
Did I willingly walk in?
Or did some mirage dissipate languishingly
In its wake, I find only the black rose
Beautiful and silent
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