He waits inside the mirror's frame
some sinister antithesis
a shadow of my former self
a man of older countenance.
His eyes see through my artifice
he watches at my window pane
kneels down with me at water's edge
mocks in perfect pantomime.
Who is real and who is false
he reaches out to touch my hand
longs to leap inside my mind
to live within my lover's eye.
I dropped my mirror to the floor
and now he's looking up at me
broken bits of who I am
a thousand ways to say good-bye.