She held me up,
mirror to face,
goddess to god.
And I stammered,
not out of reflex,
but curiosity.
How the smoke filled the room,
mirror to mirror,
untied sneakers to red stiletto heels.
Our histories swirled
around darkened corners
reflecting back what once was
one night stands,
trips to the women's health clinic,
and roses on doorsteps.
Mirrors fracturing,
shards collecting on cold pavement floor
reforming into something,
something that was not meant to be,
not meant to become,
but did.
She shoved the mirror closer to my face,
transparent, I saw the goddess behind the frame,
yet it was not her, it was me,
and I reciprocated,
the white fog dancing around us
like freshly lit cigarettes.
My only thought was the dismay I saw
in the reflection staring back at me.
Unlike my own, her past and future
traveling down into my lungs.
I reached out but felt only cold glass,
tracing the lips of the angel
from my contemplations.
And as we both closed our eyes
it all disappeared.
