Gretch's Story
That person in the mirror isn't me anymore.
Crust of paper towel flake over; sprinkling that face;
little white freckles. Streaks abstract the green
eyes looking back at me.
They're so cold, her eyes; they didn't seem
real; not seeing. Not wanting to live anymore.
Abruptly, mechanically, the image shifted hergaze toward the warmth of the sun streaming through the window. I watch that image in the mirror, searching for something she just can't have. A theif taking whatshe could; taking what she needed; what she couldn't give herself.
Soft, lilting notesreached her ears, tempting
her to climb a topof them, and let them carry her
away. was slipping, they were winning; but maybe that’s where she belongs. The image shreiks; it thinks it has been defeated.
My God.
The piano stops playing. The room turns
dark. Time has left. I am alone. The mirror is
there but my shadow has died. I am alone. The mirror
is there but the shadow has died. Slipping into the
dark, am I alone? Is anybody there? But who could
have been there before? Let me go.
the knife cuts. the blood drops. A lond road,
but where will it end? How many of us mustt leave
before it helps? We won’t know. We may never find out.
Once I am gone I hope it’s the truth that is
told. when I have lost I hope that both will
understand.
Back to Other People's Thoughts
