I turn to look at her complexion, touching, with only the tips of my fingers, the cold glass dividing our spaces. Everything is reflected, as it should be, except a stain on the carpet. Or could it just have been my illusion? I must be mad.
But here I am, looking at an image of myself wondering
which
one
of
us
is
'real'
She is carved out of my image as Eve was cut out, like wooden sculptures are, from Adam's rib. A switch turns and in the next scene she reaches for the moulding stain on the carpet, to the left of her. Kneeling on the floor, even in this position, her thighs remain slim and frail. She opens her mouth, with this her eyes open seemingly just as wide, with her pupils shaking in terror, and staring through me she lets out a horrid scream. Continuing to kneel, her screams die down to inaudible screeches until they seem as frail as her thighs. Assuming of course, that if thighs were able to produce a human sound, hers would reflect the tones of her now failing voice.
A bitter expression bores into mine accompanied by a simple question, who am I? though she doesn't ask literally, I can hear her clearly enough in the covets of my mind. I do not answer but I am aware that I was singular until I had met her in the reflection of the mirror in my room, I was 'me' though now I am also 'her' and we are an 'us'.
Ignoring my stagnant state, she riles me up. Her fingers are clad in a thin layer of flesh, with more vein and knuckle protruding outward than there were layers of skin to keep them from breaking out like a splinter. She reaches for the moulding stain on the carpet, with the index finger and middle finger, drawing circles around it. Naturally, my eyes follow, only looking away once to check for the same stain on my side of the room. I need only once to divert my attention before I start ...
Feeling
the
swirl
of
her
motions
inside
of
me.
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon A Time, Time Stopped
PoetryDon't let your mind wander too far, for it will lose its selves - soul, thought and body. A soul that has lost its body is like a cat straying until it cannot pick up the familar scent of home anymore. It never returns, falling slave to a human God...
