Cracked Mirrors MAG

November 8, 2013

I see you in cracked mirrors
when I'm browsing vintage shops.
They remind me of your eyes
when you kissed me like you meant it.

When I'm browsing vintage shops,
I think of stealing broken lamps because
they remind me of your eyes.
You used to melt into my fingers.

I think of stealing broken lamps because
I no longer remember to turn the lights on.
You used to melt into my fingers
when you were held tight to my wrists.

I no longer remember to turn the lights on
because you held me like a knife.
When you held tight to my wrists,
I began breaking things.

Because you held me like a knife
when you kissed me like you meant it,
I began breaking things.
Now, I see you in cracked mirrors


The author's comments:
A pantoum about a boy

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