Mirror Mask

An older poem for a familiar pain

Wearing a flannel that smells like a ghost

The momevents of her lips argued with words my jealous mirror deciphered

Hanging crooked on the back porch of my mind

Showing my heart syllables that became the death of me

I do not love you anymore
There I said it
But my stomach drowns in a nervous sweat when your opinion gives way

That day I layed my lonely hand on her lap as my car barreled through back roads and braved highways that didn't mention the mountains between them.

She just left it lay there. As if it was a bloaded roadkill something or other.

Without a single care, how inhumane it made her seem

Whatever she used to be
Has been consumed by what she has unexpectedly become