by Cheryl O'Brien

Created on: September 06, 2008

Mirror Made of Flesh

I stare into a mirror made of flesh and bone,
goose bumps rise as I see my self of old
in the present moment.
Eerily knowing without asking,
feeling what she feels.
Without a word
passed between us
I cry for what she might have become,
for what I left behind,
and because I know
she will stay in her hopelessness.
Life buoys and ropes are of little use
she ignores them and retreats
to the familiar and closes
herself off from hope that is too
painful to possess.

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