The Girl Behind the Glass

My first poem, but don't go easy on me!

 

When did I succumb to being the girl in the mirror?

To gaze through glass at an image that could be and let it pass by her?

To imagine your tender lips, your gentle touch.

To tell myself that I could not have it, no matter the desire and rush

That plagued my heart, my soul, my mind,

To strip me from being as I stepped upon the scope of your eyes;

To let the glass be sterilized as to not show

The emotions for you I once bestowed.

To lock into this desolate corridor

My passion for you, my angst against her;

To fade myself into nothingness, to be an empty husk

Who gazes longingly with no hope, no luck

To be able to see your eyes, so blue and clear,

Yet to see them at a distance behind my self-constructed prison bars of fear.

 

To imagine running with you across the fields of grain,

To imagine climbing with you atop the highest mountain plain.

To be held in your arms amidst the crystal lakes,

To never wake up from my dream, to never escape

From the life I imagined, to the jail cell I created;

To tell myself in time the feelings I once had for you will have abated.

To call your name, to know you’re there,

To imagine myself running my hand through your light locks of hair,

To know you’re not mine and bring myself tears,

To realize that you’ll never be mine, to succumb to my greatest fears.

Contently I recognize this, contently I must be

Because I know you were never truly meant for me.

And contentment is the best phase of mind to say goodbye;

Goodbye sweet dream, pleasant lullaby.

 

As I stand here behind the glass,

Constantly turning over my shoulder to look back,

Don’t make this painful or difficult on me;

Let me fall to my awaiting misery.

I wipe the glass to open new visions,

To erase the past and all my misgivings,

To cease pushing my feelings onto you,

As if I could ever break the glass to get through to you.

Who is that girl in the mirror?  Is that me?

The one that cast away her emotions so suddenly?

Fragile is one’s soul, as fragile as glass,

So give me this moment to gather myself, my emotions, and let them pass,

To leave you contently as I say goodbye;

Goodbye sweet dream, pleasant lullaby.