Lover in the Mirror

I saw you in the mirror’s fractured light,
A silhouette haunted by longing, wrapped in the armor of your own arms,
A shadow curled around your form,
The kind that slips behind glass at midnight and waits, hungry, for my eyes.
I thought you’d stay and hold me,
But every embrace was filtered through silver and doubt,
Fear took shape, cracked the glass–
And what was love broke the norm,
Turning familiar into uncanny, comfort into caution.
Your eyes held dark and dread,
Twin voids where I searched for safety and found only my own reflection–
A love now gone–something dead, a rumor, a chill at the back of the throat.

Still, I reached for you in the glass,
A lover I could not touch but could not abandon,
Fear too deep, love too fast,
Every promise dissolving before it reached your skin.
I pressed my hand to the mirror,
Felt nothing but cold and grief,
A love that’s real but never near,
Always out of reach,
Always threatening to vanish if I stare too long or hope too hard.
Your eyes were filled with dark and dread,
But I was addicted to the ache, to the shimmer, to the way
You made loneliness feel almost beautiful.

But still, I couldn’t turn away,
The mirror’s spell pulling me deeper into obsession,
Your love now felt like something dead–
But my body didn’t care.
Bound to you, to this ritual, to staying,
I return every night to the mirror,
Tracing your outline with trembling fingers,
Hoping for a warmth that never comes,
Afraid that the only lover I will ever know
Is the one behind the glass.