Keep digging deeper, wrinkles.
Lines, sew yourselves to my skull
and create seams that illustrate
seriousness.
Seriousness hangs heavy on you, Brow.
Your edges pull down
and attempt to reach the
once-decorated-now-blurred corners of
Eye, who has never been so red,
subtly swollen.
Swollen and shielded by you, Tear.
You beguiler, you charmed me
with promises of relief
and I let you cascade
(you were a cadenza)
down Cheek who,
on a microscopic scale,
shrunk away from you,
leaving a pink line,
a shadow.
She is so
gentle, like a finch or
a deer or
anything else
of glass.
And I am so--
You, Mirror.
Glass, but also
splintered wood and blistered paint,
and a reflection,
a shadow.
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