Stories tagged “mirror”
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Being Seen
I looked up into a face I faintly recgonized. I traced my eyes over her face. She had flawless, perfect skin. Her eyes I noticed next. They shown a clear, crystal blue. It was hard to pull my eyes away from them, but I did. I let my gaze drift down her...
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In The Mirror
“Stop, please.” My voice shakes as I whisper to him. “What?” She asks. “I think you should really get some rest, do you want me to walk you home?” “N-no. I’m alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?...
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Mirror
Lucielle puffed her hair with both gloved hands while scrutinizing her reflection in the ornate mirror which Marcus had purchased for her from a Chinaman in the Market. She had plead at his arm for hours until he, as is his way, relented and pulled the...
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Not What it Looks Like
“I-it’s not wh-hat it looks like!” She stammered, allowing tears to flow down her soft cheeks. She could feel them there, all their eyes watching her. She’d dealt with their kind before, but this was different. Never had it been...
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Where Did the Time Go?
Where did the time go? Is it hiding under a shelf Waiting to come back again? Did we recycle it in a bin Before we realized what we had done? The girl in the mirror Is broken with memory It’s trapped her in a glimpse Of what she thought she would...
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Mirror, Mirror, in My Hand... [poem]
There is a standard set up for me Everyone says “that’s what you should be” But I don’t want to be perfect Fake, pretend – it isn’t worth it I want to be free, to make my own pretends We’re all who we are, who ...
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The Mirror.
I touch this cold glass smooth under my fingertips Framed with rubies at the top And gold all round. with Love at every corner and Joy at every sparkle This is no ordinary mirror this is truly extraordinary It shows me in her. I see my world crystal cl...
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The Mirror
There is a girl, carrying a mirror down to her basement. She isn’t going to look at it, she hardly ever does; she never likes what she sees in it anyway. Its enormously heavy, the gilded, full length, reflective behemoth. Its glass pieces are scr...
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Ding, Dong, The Mirror's Dead.
The knife glinted in the light, reflected perfectly in the mirror. It rose slowly, my right hand bringing it to me neck. I could almost feel the cold radiating from it. “It would be so easy,” the mirror me said. She smiled. Was it sympathy ...
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Melted Mirror (a poem)
The mirror melts before my eyes, Silver sludge spreads on the floor, Reflecting back who I am no more, Why should this pan of glass, Get to tell me who is me? Still over time it just sinks in, It finally gets under your skin, To become this thing you a...
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Silent Eye
People think I’m indifferent. That I’m faceless, and therefore unprejudiced. But this isn’t true. Just because you see only your pretty little face in me doesn’t mean I don’t see it too. And I judge you by every stain you&...
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Does Brian Seem Different to You?
The doors to his room were all closed, even the closet door. The lights were off, except for a small plug-in night light in the shape of a train. The dim light suggested safety rather than demanding it. Despite all of the precautions, Brian was afraid....
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Hour Glassed People of Sand
Taste Chocolate context Displaced Muscle flexed In the mirror faced Lost in text Guiding with haste Lighting paths Biting down laughs Phasing Everlasting Electric like tasing Empty like fasting Tempting like flesh Under covers Wonder and guess Gentle l...
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Over Dose
Falling, spilling, Spitting, flailing. Look at yourself— you filthy fucking mess. Come over here and see A high school dropout Drunk and high on meth With vomit and cigarettes On his breath, Come see how squirming inconsiderates Are erased in ...
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Without
At first it’s just a flicker. She blinks to make sure she saw correctly, but her mouth is there in the mirror and she gives herself a preparatory smile. It looks good. She walks through the day on the safe road that she has paved for herself with...
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A Meeting
I met myself today, and she was not who I expected. She was a thinker, a dreamer, a doer. She could dance in the rain with a smile on her face. If you gave her an idea, she would run with it. She had talents-not the least of which was to listen. She wa...
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Midnight Ritual
I hear the voices from my invisible prison. Calling me. Inviting me. Tormenting me. Though it has happened so many times before, I can’t help myself but feel a small sense of growing hope that this time, this time is the time. They found him, som...