mirror, mirror

I tell the woman in the mirror:
“You’re not who I set out to be.”
She looks at me, somewhat askance
and then she whispers back at me
“Nor are you”
then goes on to say
“but if we stick together we’ll be okay.”

 

Written for the dVerse quadrille “mirror, mirror on the wall” prompt. 

small hours

I dread these “small” hours
these dark hours
these interminable hours,
stretching unbearably
while I watch for the line
between windowsill and blind to lighten

and I am envious
envious to the point of madness
of all these around me
wrapped in their cosy blanket of sleep

it will not come to me
it creeps near,
comes tapping on my scalp like rain
but this impermeable skull keeps me in
and keeps sleep out

hour after hour
all these small hours

I am starving at the feast-

they take their little slice of death
to see them fresh for another day
and I look on at their placid faces,
hear their slow, satisfied breaths
and envy them until I hate them

until I no longer wish to join them
but just for there to be no more days

and no more “small” hours