He told me that looking in the mirror would scare me.
He was so afraid to show me pieces of himself but when he took of his clothes he realised he was empty.
So empty that the mirror couldn't portray all of his non existent happiness.
But, it was so easy for him to thrust all of his emptiness into my overflowing body that was turned warm by a tingly sensation he created when he carras’d my body.
The only time I knew who he truly was, was when our lips would touch each other and I'd remember what it's like to kiss someone with so much passion only to remember it isn't really them.
The only time I saw what he was made off was when I offered sexual pleasures in exchange for emotional fulfilment because that was the only thing I got attached to but it's not about me because I'm transparent enough when my legs are being spread wide open to make sounds that make him feel powerful, powerful enough to leave me shivery and wanting more of him but remembering it's only temporary.
He wore his clothes and realised being empty was more of a content thrill he was willing to stay in because non existent happiness is more of a lifestyle than it is a choice.
He's staring at the mirror again, trying to make sense of what he see's in the mirror but he doesn't realise that he left all of the pieces he thinks the mirror will give him inside of me.
~Low-Key Poet ??
Copyright © Sihle Simelane | Year Posted 2018