mirror eyes (Draft)

She likes to watch the people,

as they pass her by.

She likes to see their eyes flicker to each others,

she likes to watch them breathe.

She likes to see them smile,

and hug, and kiss,

she likes the contact and the comfort.

She likes to see when he buys her flowers,

and when she kisses him back, and he's happy.

She likes to watch the people.

Her only wish,

she tells herself,

is to get out there,

with all those pretty people.

Breathing with them,

moving with them, being with them.

She wants to meet the people who

will kiss her cheeks in greeting,

and the other people who will give her

Beautiful smelling flowers and creamy,

soft chocolates.

She wants to feel the warmth of each person

as they brush past her skin.

But she can't.

She shouldn't,

she knows she can't.

Tonight then, she prays.

Prays to be with the others,

to be part of it all.

Prays to be involved,

to be unified.

Prays to be able to touch them.

Because,

That's all she really wants.

Morning comes, she hopes she is free.

She hopes to be able to reach out to all of them.

She hopes that hope is enough.

She proceeds.

And, for the briefest of moments

She is able,

She feels her soul lift up high into the clouds,

with them all,

and finally feels unified.

But then she notices something strange,

something unusual,

something she's never noticed before,

through her mirror eyes.

She notices the tears of the people,

she notices the hurt on their expressions.

She notices the aimlessness of their wanderings,

And no longer is the drip-drip-dripping

of each tiny raindrop so exciting anymore,

no longer does she stand in awe.

She looks harder, but only seems

to push her people even more

from forms of beauty

to objects of selfish flesh and blood.

She realises how free she truly was before.

And all she can do is stand.

Night falls, and the groups disappear,

leaving the select few rushing

In and out of doors,

refraining to hesitate,

or even establish eye contact.

Waiting for someone to bring her the flowers,

to kiss her, to greet her;

Waiting for nobody, her tears fall from her cheek,

devouring her entity,

and no-one will stop to save her,

to help her,

to comfort her.

The sun makes it's return,

drying her icy tears,

hardening them against her flesh.

As dawn breaks, her very own wish

casts her into a stone casket

of solid sorrow,

and she becomes another statue,

another centre-piece

to brighten up

their self indulgent lives.

*Originally written 2005 for the journal 'everybody'

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