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by Tones
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Nonsense · #1853457
The one you have to face, stares you down without apology.
A stranger I met in the mirror yesterday
his eyes were different than mine,
happy somehow.
Already I could tell he had met a woman,
his grin practically spoke of sex.
I was envious. Angry.

A week ago I ignored myself in that there mirror,
numb
incomplete.
We argued without words.
There was silent misunderstanding in the
miscommunication.

Today I met him again, the man from a week ago.
He smelled of sex,
yet no grin.
I could tell already he had lost a woman.
I am envious. Angry.
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