Click
Hiding behind
Mirrors
Behind Glass
Behind Lenses
Cold metal presses against warm flesh
Contrasting
With the feel of my warm breath
Slowly
Ever so slowly
I pull back the lever
Muscles working against metal springs
Man versus machine
I extend
My middle finger
-typically a taunt-
It now means
"I want to capture you"
"You are beautiful"
Finally,
The last lever falls
The shutter closes
The mirror flips
Click.
👁 4💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.