I would have loved to be her reflection
to have your double trace his hands upon my skin
looking at me the way you look at her
while I glow to molten glass beneath his touch.
I wanted, in yet another mirror,
to share in her perfection
to revel in possession of that mole beneath her eyes,
the smooth, more streamline, contours of her thighs.
I ached to sense your weight on me
hardened, glossy, gilded
to writhe beneath your reflection
entangled, captured by your image.
I wanted, simply,
to echo each and every movement,
face flickering her sensations
tensing towards her brittleness
in silent, glassy, screaming.
I wanted it