19What

my reflection

he appeared to be

minus the red hair

and consciousness of breathing

I laughed and he laughed

I wept and he wept

Mirror images of perfection

Minus the promises

And Understandings

I danced, and he watched

I reached out my arms--

He taught me to fly

My private little stock of glass pains

Minus the physical existence

Plus the distance

He flicked off the light

To watch my pupils grow

In the night

In the mirror

In him

Frantically

Finding nothing but darkness and me

And the knowledge

That the light

Has burned

Out.