you say i mirror your interior, the things you hide behind your eyes
you tell me that you want to reach in the looking glass
it's hard to piece back together a past when it's been smashed
stained colors and made beautiful, worshiped like a church
and i think you're still trying to decide if that's truly your desire
and here i am, the cheshire cat, offering you paths and parallels
my lips form the words, "which way, which game will you play?
divide and conquer, like chess? do you want to rid me of defense
slide around my attempts to fight you off and capture me through wit?
or checker, want to hop and skip and jump madly about my board
until you're bored with my way of seeing things in black and white?
perhaps you want scrabble, words built off of words, trapping me
into a maze, a haze of pretty phrases and silly girlish hopes?"
you claim i'm a mirror, that your eyes and heart and soul reflect mine-
i don't know if i dare believe this to be so
i wonder if, when rejected, when i put a fist through this mirror we once reflected
seven years bad luck decided to follow me into this future
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this body of mine was *my* church, *my* place to be vunerable
i opened my doors to you, lit my candles for you to pray by
i was your cathedral, a place you felt safe, a place you could kneel and be helpless
and what a mess you left behind when you turned your face away from my redemption
when you renounced your goddess and broke my windows, left me open to the wind
i gaze at the alter where you used to offer me your everything, i taste your blood and tears
i pick up the broken splinters... and it's winter, it's cold in this abandoned sanctuary
i shiver, waiting to be striped purple and stripped of my sanity, left only with my smile
i know what i want, know which path i'd choose, but you smile at my inquiries
just blow a kiss, hit or miss (yet you always hit your mark, my heart; and damn you for it)
and leave me with unanswered questions heavy in the air, sharp like glass shards
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it's hard to be a mirror when your light is off
hard to reflect in the dark
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Comments on wegotism (no 'u' in moving on... but there is in 'future'...)