January 23, 2010
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I stare into the mirror

but nothing is staring back.

All there is, is a pair of dead eyes,

not so much as glancing back.

Is this what I’ve become?

Surely it is not.

It couldn’t be.

I watch as the girl in the mirror

picks up a brush,

and run it through her thin, dull hair;

as she clips a piece back;

as she applies her makeup…

This can’t be me.

Perhaps my reflection is confused.

Because that is certainly not me.

That is when I see you there.

In the mirror.

I turn to face you

but you’re gone.

And it’s then I begin to understand.

I look down to find the

carpet’s stained red.

Thick liquid dripping from the walls.

Back to face the mirror.

Now I see.

The ghost of you,

the ghost of me.

A sweet embrace.

One last kiss.


Bang Bang

We fall.

I quickly turn.

Shaken by the scene.

And when I turned,

you caught me.

Caught me right before I fell.

And then…


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