The Mirror Through the Trees – A Poem

When I glance in the mirror,

I see him.

He is a darker version of me,

one that is still unbeautiful

even though he’s made

from silver glass  and light.

He is the twin that I used to know,

never far from me,

hiding inside of me.

He starts speaking to me

in a soft, salient hiss

filled with loathing and

a subtle kind of sadness.

I imagine his hiss is the

soft rustle of leaves,

sprouting from trees that

I have conjured behind the glass.

Soon, the mirror looks out at

a sea of green, trees as far

as the eye can see,

each branch holding a wish

of possibilities undiscovered.

A lone bird, yellow feathers

that are streaked with white,

flies out of the mirror towards me,

his song bright like the sunshine.

He flies merrily around me,

his merry tune  mixing  

with the rustle of the leaves.

When I turn back to the mirror,

I see the dark twin is gone.

So is my bedroom.

All there is to be seen

is a sea of green leaves,

bending this way and that

in a breeze that almost seems

to be talking to me.

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