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Lies Behind Glass
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Loving Tributes We stood,
you behind me,
head peeking past
my shoulders
gazing into
a full-length mirror.
The woman
you saw reflected
upon that polished surface
was a beauty,
both on display
and hidden behind
the shine.
I saw only
a contorted image
as if I were staring
into a fun-house mirror.
I moved
toward her
and, in anger,
pounded fragile fists
on that glass
collecting the shards
in my cupped hands:
a reminder
of what I can never be.
Rewrite 2012
We stood,
you behind me,
head peeking past
my shoulders
gazing into
a full-length mirror.
The woman
you saw reflected
upon that polished surface
was a beauty,
both on display
and hidden behind
the shine.
I saw only
a contorted image
as if I were staring
into a fun-house mirror.
I moved
toward her
and, in anger,
pounded fragile fists
on that glass
collecting the shards
in my cupped hands:
a reminder
of what I can never be.
I suppose the other person could be an actual other person or yourself. Either way, someone seeing you differently than you do. The metaphor is done well and feels complete by the end of the poem, not a difficult feat for you at this point to be honest. Love it.