Writing Weekends

The Mirror

I stare into those hollow glass eyes

Are they hers or are they mine?

Feeling empty with nothing to live for

No energy of life worth living

She is not real anymore

But a ghost girl

A line drawing

A

line

drawing,

 she

practices

every day and night

A tattoo, Her mark

Or my mark?

As I flinch over the sink

Into the shattered glass of our life

 

 

 

 

 

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