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.
Copyright © Maya Fillion-Ritchie | Year Posted 2021
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