Author: Ventracere PM
Shattered, mirrors. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is that standing there about to fall?Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Poetry/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 463 - Favs: 1 - Published: 04-29-12 - id: 3017892
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Blinking, staring, reaching out
To touch the glassy reflection.
It is solid, unmoving, but
The image continues to play out.
Shadowing every move,
A copycat with a stony face.
The figure turns away
Stalking out of view, out of the glass face
Face no longer reflected on the
Watching glass that stands there.
A guard, a sentry, a watchdog,
A gargoyle, a demon, a gruesome photo.
The figure walks back into the picture
A snow globe in hand,
Only to have it thrown,
And watch it smash into the reflecting glass
Realizing that it didn't grant any satisfaction
As the watching glass crumple on contact.
Sharp glassy tears cascaded from the wooden frame,
The snow globe shattered on the carpet,
Liquid seeping, thick and sticky, on the floor
Sand tumbling out of the shattered dome.
The figure dashes out of the door,
Feet pounding on wet sand
As the tides slipped in and out
Silent, oblivious, carefree.
Exhausted, the figure stares down
Into frothing, slipping, gurgling saltwater
Watching the reflection fade in and out
Distorted, angry, rippled.
A sharp snap, the figure sunk to a sitting position
Onto the wet sandy dune
Hands on knees
Face in hands,
Only to lash out at the reflection.
Watching it disappear and reappear
No matter how hard the figure tried to keep it away.
An unspoken word slipped from clenched teeth
As fists pounding the ever-shifting reflection in salt water
"Why?... Why me?"
Of course no answer is given,
Only continuous sighs and the occurring smiles of winking stars.
The figure stood, brushing off sand,
Wiping unnoticed tears off of tan cheeks,
Stony brown eyes wavering
As feet carried them toward the doors.
Whispers carried by crickets
Of doubt, fear, guilt,
Plagued the once strong mind,
Only to be silenced.
When those stony brown eyes
Snapped upon the shattered glass.
Tan hands set the wooden frame onto the ground
The glass shards shimmered as tan hands picked them up
Sliding them back onto the frame.
The reflection reformed piece by piece
Fractured by lines, creases, cracks.
The waning moon and stars were the only source of light
As sharp, shattered, shimmering shards snagged the tips of fingers
Drawing tinted edges of blood along corners of the reflection.
A shattered, cracked, reformed figure looked back,
Mouth pursed, eyes dark.
The reflection smiled,
The ghost of the past sanding in the shadows.
The figure turned, half expecting to see it behind,
No… only imagination.
This was just a reflection.
But that was her reflection.
This was what it was supposed to be,
No matter how shattered it was.
AN So, yeah. I don't know where this came from. Came from the a warm up in class. Anyways. Reviews aren't mandatory =D