Mirror Poem by Joshua Swanson

I touch my fingers to the mirror,
Feel them slowly start to sink,
Into the deep morass of feelings,
And thoughts I hardly dare to think.

Slowly my hand slides deeper, deeper,
Intro the mirrors silver sheen,
Slowly my blood drops softly, softly,
Each drop a moment that might have been.

Now my arm, encased in diamond,
That reflects the darkness in my eyes,
Spreads ripples across the empty face,
A soundless voice that silent cries.

I and myself, too close to part,
Reflection marred by swirls of red,
That spread and twist the silver surface,
A growing skein of darker thread.

The warmth of breath that fades away,
Condenses on the silver screen,
A spark all too soon swept aside,
A touch of life that might have been.

A rush of silver night that drifts,
Bleak crystal shards as warm as stone,
As welcome as a broken dream,
That rising, cuts hearts blood from bone.

The silken vein of scarlet curls,
A twisting pattern left behind,
Enwraps, enfolds, enjoins and whirls,
Tracing patterns to grip my mind.

Thus through the darkness I shall sink,
Beyond the reach of sight nor sound,
Where all the thoughts I dare not think,
Are forced to echo, round and round.