and it’s the way I can feel you sitting

twitching fingers wrapped around a scratched water bottle

fishing for words I don’t want to hear

throwing them over etched tabletops

only to be met by a sharp response

aimlessly busy hands

or empty laughter.

and it’s the way I can feel you waiting

tapping feet measuring the seconds I didn’t ask you to spend

touching the small of my back

not meant for your fingers

with nails cut too short

a smile greets you but

I don’t let you carry my books.

and it’s the way I can feel you looking

eyes picking up on the flawed skill I left in the brushstrokes

hands holding black cards

to hide nervous mouths

you talk though picking my cards

and can’t find the words

when they’re not typed for you.

and its the way I can feel you standing

bare shoulders smiling at the beating sun burning the water droplets off my back

feet slowing on the smooth rock

hands quickening after the sun leaves

you want to know why I won’t look at you

I’ll leave before I tell you

your mind was all I could handle.

Your face remains unseen

Except through the grim and grainy glass

That’s stiller than water and easy to crack.

I wonder – does it glance at you as you pass

Not looking at the world reflected?

Hung framed on a cracked and faded wall,

We contain the screaming likeness of ourselves

So we can simmer to sleep, to let peace enthrall.

One world is enough it seems,

Without another one to shatter.

Tell me – if we break their world,

Here on this side, will it matter?

Bad luck follows our guilt

As we try to make amends.

The mirrors are always watching

Even if we try to pretend

That we are the only copy of ourselves,

And that we remain unique.

I wonder – what would your reflection

Say to you, if only it could speak?