Dark Mirrors Poem by Mark Heathcote

There's always smoke, tears, and dark mirrors.
When I can't reach you
And I end up feeling like road kills, not quite dead.
That's when I want to leave and bleed.
Bleed blood in silence, listening to every heartthrob.
Asking what makes you tick, have I missed a trick?
Am I wrong? Are you right? Why on earth?
Did we fight again last night?
Is everything a spiral spinning on an access 
On its course, but battling re-entry 
Will I burn up or realign with you?
And if I do, will you love me?
Like I do you.