A perfect stranger
Looks back at me from the mirror,
Eyes like mine but colder,
A hollow flame flickering where my soul should be.
It steals my shadow
And walks my footsteps,
Tracing paths I thought were mine,
Filling my rooms with whispers
That taste like my own name.
I scream, but my voice
Is swallowed by glass,
And my hands pass through the reflection
As if it were smoke.
It wears my skin,
Learns my laugh,
Sleeps in my bed,
And eats my meals,
A ghost learning to live in my life.
I wake to find it waiting,
Smiling in the mirror with patience I cannot match.
Each day I shrink,
A fading silhouette behind its rising presence,
My memories dripping into its eyes.
And one night, I vanish completely,
The stranger steps out,
Perfect in every line,
Walking my streets,
Living my life,
While I linger
Only in the darkness
Behind the glass,
A shadow of a self
That never existed.
©Diana Mistera
