They
were strangers, such intricacies of a mirror, such presence of a humming aura.
They knew for tragedy, two but silent, stressing shorn fantasies; for it’s a
burden to die, to crave a color wheel, to thirst with hunger; but lines are so tragic;
a Savanna is so hallow; to court for painstaking valleys; where winds are
mocking, such terror of souls, a spider in a psyche. They perish in silken
woes, a leopard by instincts, a jaguar by beauty. In tears a sun rises,
searching for a hampered moon, such as two never to meet again.
Mirrors
are stalking, pulling at eyes, something needling attention. She redecorates,
positioning mirrors, forever uneasy. Mirrors watch, capturing every instance,
for merciless reflection. He
wails—for knotted, that closer to stages, walking through chattering
hallways. Walls morph into reality,
shedding mirrors, displaying every phase of his life. She feels his terror, clutching from
gripping her stomach, that closer to highways. He takes for courage, to shatter mirrors,
to witness broken pieces of himself.
These
are two mirrors—lurking in shadows, a dragon as a python—where images grow
limbs, ten fathoms deep—into crevices where self is scratching for
freedom. She heard his name,
streaming from his mind, where he heard her voice. They were strangers, a mirror to an ostrich,
digging for mother earth; for mirrors give to take, to impassion through
trauma, for walls to transition. Its life as mirrors, as floating dragonflies,
hiding beneath eye-patterns.
