The Pleasantries of Love

Reflections

To reflect, one wonders what it would bring
From a shard of glass that differs from a plane mirror;
A disillusioned vision, in which hair is caught by
A static moreover plighting the body, and eyes, cast
And weary, draw further hollows in the smooth glass.
Tiredness burdens skin with a pallor much less
Than ashes, and the cheekbones are skeletal, gaunt,
Provoking full lips that were chapped before I knew you.

In reflection, I doubt it'd bring a difference but for
A scope - to see all of you or a fragment, to search your
Body or expression. If a plane mirror, then you reflect
With perfect transparency, beauty caught between the
Lines of light that bounce to and fro to form you.
If in a shard, I see clarity shattered further than your
Penchant for hiding an image behind broken glass.