I would have loved to be her reflection

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
to be
who shattered.



5 comments on “I would have loved to be her reflection

  1. xobellefemme says:

    Oh, how beautiful you make jealousy seem.

  2. Lila says:

    Woah. Not so delicate at the end here.
    Another topic I’m fascinated by, reflections.
    Loved your take on it here. Very… reflective, I should say?

    • Thanks.

      I definitely share the fascination, and I suspect there’ll be more on this topic to write at some point. This one, however, was just a gift from inspiration. We had a couple staying in our living room, which has a large full-length mirror. It was one of those ideas that spontaneously cut itself out of my background thoughts on the topic, and took about 10-15 minutes to just scribble down.

      If only that happened more often…

      • Lila says:

        I love those moments, they’re the “notes on a napkin” type for me, except sometimes I’d rewrite it for hours only to settle for the original. Go figure!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s