Mascara drips
Into the sink;
Ashen trails
Down this
Porcelain face.
I think
I am sad,
Biting my quivering
Lip in the back
Of a taxi
Just minutes ago.
Now my reflection
Stares back at me,
So I stare
Back at it.
I am somehow surprised
To recall
That pretty yet miserable
Creature is me -
Never before
Have I thought myself
Pretty,
Nor worthy of such
Fierce advocacy
As that
Which led to these tears.
I think
I have grown -
As a man,
And as a lover,
For I can finally look
At that tearful guise
And believe
That I deserve more;
That I deserve
Something, someone,
That doesn't
Hurt - for why would anyone
Want to hurt
That pretty face, that gentle
Soul, the child that lives
Behind these eyes?
Briefly, I am Narcissus -
I have seen myself
Through the eyes of someone
Who loves me,
And now I realise
That some of those who claim to
Truly don't.
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
