Mirrors

Mirrors could not bring us close enough,
hands reaching at the water’s edge
suspended like a thread contoured
to your trembling lips.

Resemblance is not touch;
it is not hearing the current swell,
breaking distance,
fingers left to dance.

It is resignation:
the kind that waves,
that walks until the vanish,
and turns with its dawning eyes
to say

we are
we were once before

remember the nights
the way we questioned
how beautiful it was
to dream without sleeping
and where it all goes
when that border is crossed

We are there now
only one is lost
left pulling at strings,
hoping our hands meet somewhere
at the water’s edge.

They will not.
Mirrors could not bring us close enough:
no matter what I saw of you in me,
it was only me.
I know how much you kept.

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