Alone in the bathroom at 3 am.
The soft light contrasts with the dark you left in your bedroom.
A silence, absolute yet gentle.
You gaze into the mirror.
The person whose eyes meet yours seems different to who you were hours ago.
Their skin is flawless.
Their eyes are wide despite lack of sleep, time is suspended.
Pupils are dilated, a slight ring of the iris is all you have to claim them as yours.
Full lips, strands of hair that had lazily curled and lay artfully around the face.
You look perfect, surreal, yet how you always imagined.
Perhaps this is the witching hour playing its mind tricks on you.
Fatigue, late night light, lethargic brain casting the image of your prefered self onto the glass.
However this person came to be in the mirror, you will enjoy this moment,
time is suspended,
you are this person,
if only until you wake up.
YOU ARE READING
Feelings of a Lonely Stranger
PoetryA bunch of words that may or may not make sense, an attempt at explaining myself
