we all play the xylo-bone in this closet, Barbara

It’s time to wake up the skeletons sleeping in your closet
You’re all free cigarettes and secondhand beers
To mask your bleary eyes
I know you got them the same way I got mine

Knees to your chest
Crying like air never existed in your lungs
Convinced you were born wrong
Loser-made, piece of s**t, 
Amount to nothing no matter what you try

Our pain holds hands 
though we stand three feet apart
I know my heart wants to kiss your scars
only because they match the wounds I hide
That seep and bleed and break open all the time

Cause when you’re so lonely you could die
Recognition becomes romantic
Validation is more intimate than slipping a finger beneath a waistband
Feeling safe with another human being gets confused and
Wanting to crack open the mystery of their darkness is the ultimate seduction

After all, you might be my Mirror
And all we see is our own reflections 
when we talk of pain and histories past

So, you run like I run
Slipping back into the night
I just hope those skeletons treat you right

Reviews

[Nipplegrinder]

This is fantastic writing. Oddly, or perhaps not, I noticed you capitalized, "Mirror".
If, on purpose, one of the most brilliant writing devices I've seen in a bit.

[A Glow in the Pit of My Soul]

Yes, it was intentional! I wanted it to be interpreted like a mirror of the mind, a projection of self, not the physical object and my instinct was to capitalize it. I do it in some other pieces of writing, too. Many thanks :)