This took ages to write – had to tear it down over and over


I love in you selves that I was, might be,
or might have been if things were otherwise,
that are so you, since sometimes in your eyes
I see a mirror. To infinity

it stretches, features morphing into mine
and back again. Oh love, we’re not the same.
I never, holding you, scream my own name
in ecstasy, confused, but as we twine

around each other’s lives, we reminisce.
I say ‘you did that too? Of course you did.’
Already sharing secrets we both hid.
Skin dust that we exhange each time we kiss

is not more intimate. Love, sister, friend.
The faces in the mirror have no end.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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