The Mirror Girl

January 1, 2010
There was a mirror girl inside me,
sad and lonesome,
so I was too. And on the outside
I felt the glass, the frigid pane
of catastrophic ice.
It numbed my limbs, the frost-mold,
like sluggish beauty, stripping
my throat of speech, flood gates
in my lungs. The motions I made
fell dumb.
He had the ice pick, the cold
and unspoken instrument...
But how could he know?
He walked away in the middle-school dust,
my soul a frozen cube yet.





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