At night,
the mirror reflects
fear,
forges images of a more frightening version of
myself. My
eyes are wide and shadowy, large,
set against gaunt and grayish face.
Horror creeps ever nearer until I'm forced
to look away.
A simple call from nature,
once the lights are out, and I am
again, eleven,
padding down a (suddenly) long,
long hallway, heart
palpitating,
palms sweating,
gust of
ghosts behind me, hot
upon my neck.
The bathroom bestows
no comfort.
To
turn on the
light or not?
Avoid the mirror- but I
can
not.
Brief glance...
and there I am - (she is) in all her gore, garments dripping guilty garnet
red.
I see her without really seeing her-
imagine, only, vision.
Hurry, then, back to bed.
Slow
my breath,
close my eyes,
wait for sleep to rescue,
pray for dreamless rest.
Damn you, slumber parties of my youth and your Bloody Mary stories.
Poetry Jam
Light Words
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