In Front Of My Bedroom Mirror Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I slid down the comforters,
And I watched her tousle her hair,
And scatter hairspray aghast,
In front of my bedroom mirror.

I went out for a couple of quicker drags,
I narrated my dream to her.
Scarlet eyes, halcyon breath -
Athwart the bed!
She was still busy with her thin pale lips
Deciding what suits the ambiance -
Heavy crimson or sparing pink?
In front of my bedroom mirror.

And I told her stories about my childhood
Only in shambles, that is
And I told her how dysfunctional the family was,
Or how irritated I am with the smell of morning dew,
While she was still plucking one of her lashes
In front of my bedroom mirror.

”You look rather dashing.” I told her,
And she nodded in approval
For flattery rouses her so much
Like a choir of demure mockingbirds
That guffaw to the sound of sirens in the background.
She was busy with her contact lenses
In front of my bedroom mirror.

And now I was weeping,
Tossing myself to and fro the room
With subtle desperation and blatant submersion
Whilst she was curling her hair
In seductively poised knots
In front of my bedroom mirror.

I slept, icy and desolate
Over the sprawling bed sheets
And tranquil pillows of exuberant cotton,
Cringing in my sleep, writhing on my assumed death bed
While she was still preoccupied with her mauve dress,
Relishing
In front of my bedroom mirror.