The linoleum rigid beneath my naked toes
bears little condolence in the long run.
For I require more than presence
to ease my jumbled mind.
The giant before me is unmasked,
its cloak tumbling towards the floor,
joining the crowd to watch my performance.
Just passersby of my cadence to life,
just readers of my stanza,
in no way are they instructors.
My fingers skate across the glass
and mine do too.
I hold my world in my hands
and so do I.
I dance and sing through the dust and sweat
just as I do.
Our lives collide
in mimicking gestures.
My reflection and I.
Me and my reflection.
We are one and the same
right?
Our synchronized movements
suggest we are one.
Our choreographed lives
represent our unity.
Our emotions chiseled into our bones
assume her thoughts are my thoughts.
The maelstrom of life coursing through my veins
and the
cold,
cracked,
lifeless,
glass of her body
suggests that this door is nothing but a mirror
reflecting only what we let others see
but never what we can see ourselves.
For I require more than presence
to ease my jumbled mind.
Luna's Journal 