Mirror-Self

I walk toward the mirror.

There I stand -

Yet something in those eyes

Is not my hand.

I raise my brow -

The image lingers, slow,

As if deciding

Should it follow,

Should it echo what I meant?

I smile -

And see a longer curve,

A twisted, stretched-out compliment,

A grin performed with quiet nerve.

It is my face...

But not my tone.

It is my shape...

But not my own.

Where am I now,

And who is held

Behind this

Silver-buried

Shell?

Mirror-self -

You mimic me without a soul or meaning.

Mirror-self -

A weary actor in a role that's slowly bleeding.

You know my gestures,

But not my flame.

I look at you

And feel the claim:

You breathe apart,

You stand alone -

You are alive...

But not my own.

At times your eyes seem older -

Though mine are clear and bright.

At times your gaze grows colder,

As if assessing me by right.

You tilt your head a moment -

And something isn't true:

I turn a heartbeat later -

Yet somehow

So do you.

I sense your presence near me,

A breath that isn't mine.

A heartbeat made of mimicry,

A face without a spine.

The features match,

The fire not.

A perfect shape...

With

Someone

Else's

Thought.

Mirror-self -

You are not reflection,

You are witness.

Mirror-self -

You watch me move with quiet, burning fitness.

You hold your posture

Calm and real,

While I'm the one

Who learns to feel.